The Inspector sighed. His face had grown long, and the buoyancy had passed from his manner.
“This is some disappointment, believe me, Miss Laura,” he confessed.
“Cheer up,” she laughed. “You’ll get over it all right.”
They found the others waiting for them at the end of the great wooden shed. Quest turned to French.
“Look here, French,” he said, “you know I don’t want to hurry you off, but I don’t know what we’re going to do with this fellow about in San Francisco. We don’t want to lodge two charges, and we should have to put him in jail to-night. Why don’t you take him on right away? There’s a Limited goes by the southern route in an hour’s time.”
French assented gloomily.
“That suits me,” he agreed. “You’ll be glad to get rid of the fellow, too,” he added.
They drove straight to the depot, found two vacant seats in the train, and Quest with a little sigh of relief handed over his charge. Craig, who, though still dumb, had shown signs of intense nervousness since the landing, sank back in his corner seat, covering the upper part of his head with his hands. Suddenly Lenora, who had been chatting with French through the window, happened to glance towards Craig. She gave a little cry and stepped back.
“Look!” she exclaimed. “The eyes! Those are the eyes that haunted me all through those terrible days!”
She was suddenly white. Quest passed his arm through hers and glanced through the carriage window. In the shaded light, Craig’s eyes seemed indeed to have suddenly grown in power and intensity. They shone fiercely from underneath the hands which clasped his forehead.