Harry thought a minute, and then he said—
“No; we’ve got no proof yet. I’d better go and put the matter in the hands of the police.”
“Yes; go at once,” I said.
Harry went up to the station and told his story to the inspector, and the inspector said we had better not say anything to the two men, but have them watched. He said they wouldn’t know him, so he’d put on plain clothes and do the job himself; he didn’t care to trust it to Jones, as Jones was a bit of a fool. You remember Jones—he was the policeman that Dashing Dick had such a game with, with the empty revolver.
I said to Harry, “Well, if he doesn’t arrest them to-night, they don’t come back here. I’ve made up my mind to that.”
The inspector came down to our house soon afterwards in plain clothes, and sat in our bar-parlour. Harry persuaded him to let him go with him to the wood, and he promised he should, if he’d be careful.
About seven o’clock, the two fellows went out, and as soon as they’d gone the inspector and Harry went off, and took a short cut, so as to get to the pool first and conceal themselves.
Harry told me all about what happened afterwards.
They concealed themselves behind a clump of trees near the pool, and presently those two fellows came along talking earnestly together.
When they got to the pool they were silent for a bit, and walked all round it, looking at the ground.