His coat was singed by the flame of the shot, but the bullet must have gone wide. Later in the day, Elk found it embedded in the brickwork of a house.
“No, no, I won’t come back,” said Johnson. “I don’t suppose they’ll repeat the attempt.”
By this time one of the two detectives who had been guarding Harley Terrace had come up, and under his escort Johnson was sent home.
“They’re certainly the busiest little fellows,” said Elk, shaking his head. “You’d think they’d be satisfied with the work they were doing at Gloucester, without running sidelines.”
Joshua Broad was silent until they were going up the steps of the house.
“When you know as much about the Frog as I know, you’ll be surprised at nothing,” he said, and did not add to this cryptic remark.
Six o’clock came, and there was no further news from the west. Seven o’clock, and the girl’s condition became pitiable. She had borne herself throughout the night with a courage that excited the admiration of the men; but now, as the hour was drawing close, she seemed on the verge of collapse. At half-past seven the telephone bell rang, and Elk answered.
It was the Chief of Police at Newbury speaking.
“Captain Gordon left Didcot an hour ago,” was the message.
“Didcot!” gasped Elk in consternation. He looked at the clock. “An hour ago—and he had to make Gloucester in sixty minutes!”