White looked at Dorothy thoughtfully, and something in his gaze made her change colour.
“Let me see this man,” he said, moving towards the exit.
“He is in that carriage,” said Dorothy, when they had reached a quiet corner of the station yard. “You must be quick. We have only a quarter of an hour now. He is an Englishman.”
White got into the cab with Uncle Ben, who appeared to be sleeping, and closed the door after him. In a few moments he emerged again.
“Tell the man to drive to a chemist's,” he said to Mrs. Vansittart. “The fellow is not so bad. I have got something out of him, and will get more. Follow in your carriage—you and Miss Roden.”
It was Major White's turn now to take the lead, and Mrs. Vansittart meekly obeyed, though White's movements were so leisurely as to madden her.
At the chemist's shop, White descended from the carriage and appeared to have some language in common with the druggist, for he presently returned to the carriage, carrying a tumbler. After a moment he went to the window of Mrs. Vansittart's neat brougham.
“I must bring him in here,” he said. “You have a pair of horses which look as if they could go. Tell your man to drive to the pumping-station on the Dunes, wherever that may be.”
Then he went and fetched Uncle Ben, whom he brought by one arm, in a dislocated condition, trotting feebly to keep pace with the major's long stride.
Mrs. Vansittart's coachman must have received very decided orders, for he skirted the town at a rattling trot, and soon emerged from the streets into the quiet of the Wood, which was dark and deserted. Here, in a sandy and lonely alley, he put the horses to a gallop. The carriage swayed and bumped. Those inside exchanged no words. From time to time Major White shook Uncle Ben, which seemed to be a part of his strenuous treatment.