"Indeed, that is just why he has bolted so expeditiously," said Marton, with something of admiration in his tones. "Angel has experienced my promptitude before, and several times I have been on the point of capturing him. He has taken French leave within the last two hours. But for that infernal fog I should have stuck to him till I ran him down. Or, at all events, I might have disabled him with a shot."
The curate looked at his friend aghast. "A shot!" he stammered.
Marton produced a neat little revolver. "I should have used that had I been able," he said quietly. "It does not do to adopt half measures with our mutual friend. Besides, if hard pressed he would have returned the compliment. Your Haverleigh fellow is a long time!"
"He'll be back soon. You can trust Leo. Surely, Marton, you do not think he knew anything of Pratt's doings?"
"With such a face as that he knows precious little," retorted Marton; "he is a good fellow, but not sharp. He did not steal that cup, nor did he help Pratt to get away. No, Raston. Our criminal friend came back here while I was blundering in the fog, and after taking some money cleared out without loss of time. I sha'n't catch him now. I suppose the telegraph-office is closed?"
"Yes. It closes here at nine o'clock. And even if you sent a wire, it would not be delivered at Portfront to-night."
"No, I suppose not. You are all so slow in these country places! It is clever of you to mention Portfront, Raston. You think that Tony Angel will go there?"
"How else can he get away?"
"I don't know. You know the country better than I do. But I tell you what, our friend will not go to Portfront or anywhere near it."
"Why not?" asked the curate, bewildered.