“Atkins and I will start for Ostend by way of Dover this very night,” said Lord Towyn, all ardor and impatience.
Atkins drew out a golden sovereign, which he held tantalizingly before the eyes of the steward.
“Answer a few more questions,” said the attorney, “and this is yours, my good fellow. Describe the gentleman who accompanied the two ladies.”
The steward hesitated, eyeing the coin with greedy eyes.
“He was tall and fair, with mustaches,” he said slowly, as if fearing the description would not suit his interlocutor, “and he was dressed in black.”
“That would describe Craven Black well enough,” murmured Sir John.
“And the ladies?” questioned Atkins. “How did they look?”
“One was some years older than the other, and was dark, with black eyes. The young lady had lighter hair. They were going on to Brussels, and I took it that the elder lady and gentleman were newly married,” said the steward, “they were that sickish, begging your pardon.”
“There’s no doubt we are on the right track,” cried Sir John, in a tone of relief.
Atkins paid the steward the promised sovereign, and led the way ashore and to the waiting cab.