"If he is the man I think he is, I know him better than you do, Raston!"
"Then who is—" Raston had just got thus far, when the landlady opened the door to announce Mr Pratt. "Here is the man himself, Marton."
"Marton!" echoed Pratt, who was standing in the doorway.
"Yes, Mr—Angel," said Marton, looking straight at him.
Pratt stood for just half a moment as though turned into stone. Then he turned on his heel, and went out of the door and down the stairs as swiftly as he was able. Without a word Marton darted after him. By the time he reached the street door Pratt had disappeared in the fog.
CHAPTER XII
A SURPRISE
Raston was astonished when Pratt disappeared so suddenly, and Marton rushed out after him. He went to the door, but his friend was not to be seen. It was little use following, for he did not know which direction the man had taken, and the fog was so thick that he could hardly see the length of his hand before him. The whole of the spur upon which Colester was built was wrapped in a thick white mist, and those who were abroad in the streets ran every chance of being lost. The village was small, but the alleys and streets were tortuous, so there would be no great difficulty in mistaking the way.