"I suppose that's a compliment, and I must try to deserve it," Whitney smiled.
Marshall poured out another drink and then went away, leaving Whitney in a thoughtful mood.
The old fellow's remarks were not clear, but two points appeared: he thought Andrew was running some personal risk, and that Staffer might put an obstacle in the way of his inheriting Appleyard. It was difficult to see how Staffer could do so, even if he could take advantage of Dick's extravagance in such a way as to give him a claim on the estate; but suppose Andrew did not live to demand his rights? Whitney remembered that his comrade had been in grave danger when the gray car swerved in the glen, and again when the light went out on Mersehead sands. That Dick shared the danger on both occasions might, of course, be coincidence; but it might have a very sinister meaning. Whitney felt disturbed about it; but he decided that as his suspicions might be unfounded and the matter was delicate, he would not warn his friends, and must be satisfied with keeping a keen watch on Staffer.
One morning shortly after this Williamson picked his way across the moss at the foot of Criffell as day was breaking. He was tired and hungry, but, even at the risk of missing his breakfast, he did not want to arrive at Dumfries too soon. Dawn was late now and he must not give the hotel people cause to wonder why he had set out long before it was light.
The black mass of the mountain rose between him and the east with a flush of pink above its sloping shoulder; the rolling country to the west was shadowy, and dry tufts of wild cotton glimmered a ghostly white among the dark-peat-hags. There had been light frost for a few days, but it had gone, and a raw wind blew in Williamson's face. The ground was getting soft, the rushes he brushed through were beaded with moisture, and now and then half-thawed ice crackled beneath his wet boots. Still, as he did not wish to loiter about Dumfries, he went on leisurely.
When he got over the fence, he found the loaning softer than he expected, and on reaching the cothouse he decided that it would not be safe to ride the motorcycle. The machine, however, was light, and he was glad of a chance to warm himself by pushing it to the main road. There was nobody in the wet fields, but the light was getting clear, and a thin streak of smoke rose from the farm among the trees. Everything looked gray and cold and desolate, but as Williamson splashed into a pool a jolt of the bicycle warned him that he had better fix his attention on the ruts.
While he did so, he noticed a sinuous line running to meet him. At first he supposed it was the track he had made in going down the lane; then he thought it looked rather deep, and with sudden suspicion he placed the back wheel of his bicycle beside it. The pattern the tire left in the mud was different, and now he saw another line run out from the grass. This seemed to indicate the track of a side-car, and Williamson, leaning his wheel against the wall, followed the marks back over the ground he had traversed.
They led him to a gap in the dyke, and after taking down the pole that closed it, he traced them to a peat-stack. They were lighter here, which showed that the men had dismounted. He knew that it would take some trouble to push a heavy motorcycle with a car attached over the soft ground; but this had been done, and the machine dragged close behind the stack. After examining the ground carefully, Williamson returned to the loaning and made his way to the highroad as fast as possible. It was now important that nobody should see him coming from the moss.
Reaching the road, where he would excite no curiosity, he sat down in the shelter of a bank and lighted a cigarette, for he had received a decided shock. Some one had driven a motorcycle down the loaning, but had not gone to the farm. This was strange; and it was significant that the man had taken a good deal of trouble to hide the machine, which suggested that he must have meant to leave it for some time, and wished to prevent its being seen. There was nothing on the moss to repay a visit, and the owner of a motorcycle would have no reason for taking a short cut across the mountain on foot, when he could drive round as soon by road. That there was probably another man in the side-car made the puzzle worse; and Williamson's face hardened as he admitted the possibility of their having tried to follow him.
Looking back at the rugged fellside anxiously, he saw that as he crossed its summit he would have been visible against the sky, though any one coming up could not be seen against the dark heath. It was unfortunate that he had not looked back as he went down the other side, or hidden behind a boulder and waited; but he had no ground for believing that anybody knew of his journeys across the hill.