"Ah!"
McGuire started up, battling for his manhood. It seemed to Peter that his gasp was almost one of relief at discovering that his eyes had not deceived him, that the face he had seen was that of a real person, instead of the figment of a disordered mind.
"Ah! Why didn't they shoot him?"
"I've just said, sir, Andy thought it was the chauffeur."
McGuire was pacing the floor furiously.
"He has no business to think. I pay him to act. And you—what did you do?"
"Three of us searched the whole place—every tree, every bush—every shadow——. The man has gone."
"Gone," sneered the other. "A H—— of a mess you're making of this job!"
Peter straightened angrily, but managed to control himself.
"Very well, Mr. McGuire," he said. "Then you'd better get somebody else at once."