Since the complete failure of his enterprise, Hinge had devoted himself entirely to nursing me; and he had been so assiduous in his attentions that I was surprised to find him absent when I called for him. At this time I was liable to be unduly excited by almost anything, and as his absence continued hour after hour, I lashed myself into a condition of wild anxiety. I was convinced that nothing but his interest for my welfare could have kept him away from me so long, and I was certain in my own mind that he had found a clew of some sort. It was seven o'clock in the evening when he came back at last, and my first glance at his face told me that something of importance had transpired.
“Where have you been all day?” I asked.
“Do you think, sir,” Hinge returned, with a face and voice of mystery—“do you think, sir, as you'll be able to get about to-morrow? If you can, I'll show you something.”
“Speak out plainly and at once, there's a good fellow,” I responded.
“Well, sir,” said Hinge, “I've found out something.” He was like a narrow-necked bottle whenever he had anything which he was eager to communicate, and I knew by experience that it was worse than useless to try to hasten the stream he had to give.
“Give me my pipe,” I said, “and get on as fast as you can.”
“I've found out something,” Hinge repeated. “I've been surprised in my time, sir, but I never was knocked so much of a heap as I have been this afternoon.” I lit my pipe and waited for him, controlling impatience as best I might. “Now who in the name of wonder, sir,” said Hinge, “do you think is down here colloguing together?”
“How should I know?” I asked, groaning with impatience.
“I was a-walking up the 'ill, sir,” said Hinge, “towards the Star and Garter this morning, just to get a breath of fresh air, when you told me as I might go out for half an hour. You remember as you'd given me leave, sir?”
“Yes, yes!” I answered. “Go on with your story.”