“Druv him to Silverton station, sir: and wasn't long about it, either—gent was in a hurry.”
“What train did he go by?”
“Well, I don't know, sir; I left him at the station.”
“Well, then, where did he take his ticket for? Where did he tell the porter he was going? Think now, and I'll give y' a sovereign.”
The ostler scratched his head, and seemed at first inclined to guess for the sovereign, but at last said: “I should only be robbing you gents. Ye see, he paid the fly then and there, and gave me a crown: and I druv away directly.”
On this they gave him a shilling and left him. But on leaving the yard Edward said: “Doctor, I don't like that fellow's looks: let us try the landlord.” They went into the bar and made similar inquiries. The landlord was out, the mistress knew nothing about it, but took a book out of a drawer, and turned over the leaves. She read out an entry to this effect—
“Pair horse fly to Silverton: take up in Mill Street at eight o'clock. Is that it, sir?” Sampson assented; but Edward told her the ostler said it was Silverton station.
“No: it is Silverton in the book, sir. Well, you see it is all one to us; the station is further than the town, but we charge seven miles whichever 'tis.”
Bradshaw, inspected then and there, sought in vain to conceal that four trains reach Silverton from different points between 8.50 and 9.25 A. M.
The friends retired with this scanty information. Alfred could hardly have gone to London; for there was a train up from Barkington itself at 8.30. But he might have gone to almost any other part of the island, or out of it for that matter. Sampson fell into a brown study.