He’d only get a slow lift if he got one at all. It wouldn’t make much difference in the calculation....
So if to-morrow one started and went on to these cross roads marked Inn, just about twenty-six miles it must be by the scale, and beat round it one ought to get something in the way of tidings of Mr. Bealby. Was there any reason why Bealby shouldn’t go on south by east and seaward?...
None.
And now there remained nothing to do but to explain all this clearly to Madeleine. And why didn’t she come down? Why didn’t she come down?
But when one got Bealby what would one do with him?
Wring the truth out of him—half by threats and half by persuasion. Suppose after all he hadn’t any connexion with the upsetting of Lord Moggeridge? He had. Suppose he hadn’t. He had. He had. He had.
And when one had the truth?
Whisk the boy right up to London and confront the Lord Chancellor with the facts. But suppose he wouldn’t be confronted with the facts. He was a touchy old sinner....
For a time Captain Douglas balked at this difficulty. Then suddenly there came into his head the tall figure, the long moustaches of that kindly popular figure, his adopted uncle Lord Chickney. Suppose he took the boy straight to Uncle Chickney, told him the whole story. Even the Lord Chancellor would scarcely refuse ten minutes to General Lord Chickney....
The clearer the plans of Captain Douglas grew the more anxious he became to put them before Madeleine—clearly and convincingly....