A few minutes of hasty toilet interspersed with oaths, and somebody clattered down the stairs.
"He'll lose that train if he isn't careful," said George to himself. "And the wicked fellow hasn't locked my door."
A dull boom of a door closing.
"Now for it," said George, jumping out of bed and peering through the window.
He heard the footsteps of the retreating Albert going off at a trot. As they died away a man ran across the road, disappeared at the inn side, and reappeared again after an interval. It was Busby, and he started off down the road in pursuit of the landlady's son. A few minutes later and another figure followed him, to be followed shortly by two others.
"Hooray!" said George, as they disappeared. "The suit did it."
Without hesitating, he got into the clothes left behind, wrote a note to the landlady, and was outside the house in a quarter of an hour.
Acting with due caution, he avoided the high road and reached the station as the sun burst into a blaze of glory over the trees.
"Four men?" said the porter he consulted. "Yes, and there won't 'arf be some trouble about it, too. Got in when the train was moving. Not a blooming ticket among the lot."
"Scandalous!" said George. "Where did they go to?"