"Hello!" called out a voice, which Leicester seemed to recognize. "What, is it vegetables? no, small party enjoying themselves. Oh! what's that? A man handcuffed!" And before any one could prevent him he had dropped from his own gig and jumped into their cart.
"I know your face, my man," he said to Job, "and yours too, sir, if I'm not mistaken. You are a lawyer, Mr. Thaxton—concerned in the little affair at Penruddie; may I ask where you are taking this man—Job is his name, I think?"
Mr. Thaxton glanced at Leicester, apprehensively.
"You are quite right," he said. "The man's name is Job, and I am a lawyer. I detected him robbing this gentleman—a Spaniard—and his servant, and I am assisting them to take him to the nearest station."
"Hem!" said the stranger.
"But you have the advantage of me," continued Mr. Thaxton. "For, although I seem to know your voice, I do not recognize you. May I ask upon what ground you thus exercise your curiosity?"
"Oh," said the stranger, with a laugh, putting off a large beard which had nearly concealed his face, "I'm Detective Dockett! You know me now, I suppose."
"Oh, dear me, yes," said Mr. Thaxton, shooting another glance at Leicester more apprehensive than the last. "I am glad to see you. I suppose you are going on to Tenby; you will be there before I shall—I am surprised your horse doesn't run away——"
"He won't run away," said Mr. Dockett. "He'd follow me down a coal mine, or up in a balloon. Yes, I'm going on to Tenby, sir. I've had a little smuggling job on here. Perhaps I can do something for you in Tenby? Rum case that Penruddie murder, wasn't it? I suppose nothing has ever turned up, sir?"
"You are the person to know best about that. You were engaged in the case. No, nothing more ever transpired. No doubt Mr. Leicester Dodson committed the deed, and was killed himself in the struggle. But it is a painful case—and I don't like to talk about it."