“Something may happen before then,” said Mr. Goddard.
It is very seldom that things happen just when they are wanted to. The prisoner on the verge of execution hopes, but as a rule hopes in vain, for an earthquake at early dawn. The debtor whose bill is due the next day prays for, but scarcely expects, a fire in the bank premises during the night, an effective fire destructive of iron safes. Mr. Goddard’s feeling that something might happen before Miss Blow caught him again was hardly a hope. Nothing short of some wholly unprecedented event would be any use to him. But Mr. Goddard was exceptionally fortunate. Something did happen. He was roused at six o’clock in the morning by a violent knocking at his door. He looked out of his window and saw Constable Moriarty standing in the street with a bicycle.
“What on earth do you want at this hour?” said Mr. Goddard.
He had slept badly during the early part of the night, and was greatly annoyed at being roused from a doze at six o’clock.
“If it’s Miss Blow you’re after,” he went on, “I haven’t got her here. She’s at the hotel. Go there and get her. Take her with you, if you want her. She’s no use to me.”
Constable Moriarty grinned. He did not want Miss Blow any more than his officer did. Then, in the very middle of his grin, he grew grave again.
“It’s what Sergeant Farrelly is after sending me over to tell you, sir, that the two English gentlemen that went off to Pool-a-donagh on their bicycles is after getting lost.”
“Lost! What do you mean by lost?”