"Yes, I saw him ascending the hill after me."
Our leader thought a moment. "Curious! Why has he not made himself visible here? The chances are you were mistaken, Moore."
"Oh, no. I feel confident it was Martin."
We left the cheerless, low-ceiled dining-room and walked out into the corridor, where the porter was mopping the floor, and the cigar-stand opening for business.
I went over and bought something to smoke. Moore took one, but Oakes refused. That meant he was worried, and not at his ease. Presently the doctor remarked: "Seems to be shooting around here."
"How? What do you mean?" asked Oakes.
"Yes, I heard a shot when I was in the wagon. The milkman said it was poachers on the Mark property."
Oakes wheeled and regarded Moore austerely.
"You heard shooting on the Mark grounds? Why did you not say so? You tell a poor story."
At this moment we heard a commotion outside, and the cry: "A runaway!"