“I have walked a much longer distance than that over worse roads than I have seen here,” was Jack’s reply.
“Come along then,” said one of the men. “Here, take your letter.”
Jack put it in his coat pocket and prepared to follow the men, but they had their ideas as to the precise manner in which the journey should be performed. Each of the men took one of Jack’s arms within his own, and thus, half captive and half supported, Jack began his march.
As they walked on, he felt somewhat elated at the course which events had taken, but his feelings of satisfaction would have given place to others of a different nature if he could have looked behind him and seen the figure which came stealthily forward from out a shadow as dense as that which had enfolded Jack, and not more than twenty feet from where the latter had stood.
Thomas Glynne kept the trio in sight. They were not likely to look back unless he approached them too closely, and it was easy for him to look forward.
“I never should have known him,” said Glynne to himself. “He seems changed somehow, but when he spoke I recognised his voice at once. My young man, I do not know what you are up to and the man they call Cromillian, but you evidently do not know what you are up to any more than I do. It is a good maxim, when you find a trail to follow it and trust to luck for the result. I shall probably get back to town before the Count sends for me to go to the house. I am sure he is a rascal at heart; but, if I can’t keep her from marrying Mr. Jack De Vinne I’ll know the reason why.”
The next morning, Lieutenant Duquesne went to Jack’s room and knocked. There being no response to repeated summonses of like nature, he tried the latch, and the door yielded. He looked in, and started back in astonishment. The bed had not been slept in, yet there was evidence that the occupant intended to return, for his portmanteau was open and several articles which he had taken from it were upon the table. Lieutenant Duquesne was much excited on making this discovery. He at once sought the landlord:
“Did my friend, Mr. Fortier, tell you last night, before he went out, that he was to be gone for any length of time?”
“Gone?” queried the publican. “Has he gone?”
“I do not know where he has gone or how long he intends to stay,” said the Lieutenant, a little nettled, “but he did not sleep in his room last night, which looks as though he intended to return.”