Ormskirk took out his snuff-box, and helped himself to a delicate pinch. “My dear Ravenscar, I am afraid you have been duped,” he said.
Ravenscar stood still by the door, stiffening a little. “In what way have I been duped?”
Ormskirk shut his snuff—box. “I must suppose that you have not encountered Stillingfleet, my dear sir.”
“I did not know that he was in town.”
“He arrived this morning. He has been staying at Hertford.”
“Well?”
“He drove to town by way of the Great North Road,” remarked Ormskirk pensively.
“So I should suppose. I do not yet perceive how his movements concern me.”
“But you will, my dear Ravenscar, you will! Stillingfleet, you must know, changed horses at the Green Man at Barnet. When he pulled out from the yard, he was in time to obtain art excellent view of a post-chaise-and-four, which was passing up the street at that moment. Ah, heading north, you understand!”
Mr Ravenscar was looking a little pale, and his mouth had hardened. “Go on!” he said harshly.