Colonel Bostal, divining the man’s intention, made a gesture of horror, and without staying either to hear the man’s explanation or to look at the warrant, retreated hastily into the house.
Clifford, however, caught sight of the paper in the officer’s hands, and something of the truth was suddenly revealed to him. It flashed upon him so abruptly, this knowledge, that the shock turned him sick and giddy. It was some minutes before he could ask, in a hoarse and tremulous voice:
“Is that a warrant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For whom?”
“Miss Bostal.”
And the policeman continued his search about the garden and the house for the lady who had so mysteriously disappeared.
“Then it is—Miss Bostal—whom George Claris wants to see?”
The innkeeper, who had now subsided into a stolid silence and tranquility, was watching the front door of the house. It was Hemming who answered:
“Yes, sir. He’s not quite himself yet, but he’s not too far off it to have been of use to us. We’ve had him under our eye these last few days, and whenever he gets the chance he makes straight for this house, and clamors to see the woman who robbed him. So we brought him with us to-night to confront her. She wouldn’t give us the chance till we got the warrant.”