“Should you split to the governor?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, then, I sold it for a sovereign to a young gentleman what inquired for it a few minutes ago. A thin, dark chap he is. I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him driving with you.”
I threw him the note and left the place. I had now no doubt about the matter at all. de Cartienne had stolen the photograph of Mr. Hart from the “Rose and Crown,” and had bought the negative. Why?
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A GLEAM OF LIGHT.
After leaving the photographer’s shop, I walked slowly across the little market-place and down the narrow street towards the “Rose and Crown.” My recent discovery had given me a good deal to think about, or rather, had afforded me matter for a variety of wild conjectures, but I could follow none of them to a very satisfactory conclusion. I was like a man groping in the dark. I had stumbled upon several very extraordinary and inexplicable facts; but what connection, if any, they had with one another, or how to link them together, I could not tell.
I have always been somewhat absent-minded and, with my brain in such a whirl, it was not a very remarkable thing that I took a wrong turning. The moment I had discovered it I stopped short and looked round. I was in a little street that led past the back entrance of the “Rose and Crown.” It was scarcely a public thoroughfare.
I had already turned on my heel to retrace my steps, when I saw two figures standing talking at the back door of the inn. One I knew at a glance to be Milly Hart. Her companion was standing with his back to me, a muffler round his neck and his cap slouched over his eyes. In the gloom of the fast-falling twilight I did not at first recognise him; but when he turned round with a start at the sound of my approaching footsteps and withdrew his arm with a sudden movement from around his companion’s waist, something in the motion and figure seemed familiar to me.
My approach seemed to discompose them not a little. Milly stepped back at once into the doorway and disappeared; her companion, without waiting to make any adieu, turned round and walked swiftly away. As he crossed the street to make use of the only exit from it—a narrow passage leading through a court—I had a better view of him. He kept his back to me as much as possible and seemed to be using every endeavour to escape recognition. But although I could not be quite certain, I was pretty sure that it was Leonard de Cartienne—de Cartienne, who never missed an opportunity of sneering at Milly’s innocent blue eyes and baby face.
I turned back, and hurried round to the front entrance of the “Rose and Crown.” In the parlour I found Cecil and Milly sitting very close together upon a sofa.