“Well, believe me, you have my sincerest sympathy; but loss it shall never be to you if I can help it. And though we were opposed for a time in our views about this rascal, we are at length of one mind as to making haste to discover Falcon’s hiding-place. I am told that you have given notice yourself to the police of his treachery, so that you are entirely exonerated from the slightest suspicion of collusion in any way with him.”
“Beyond that silly telegram I sent to Sydenham, when I vainly fancied that it would bring him back to you, squire.”
“You clearly mistook your man, doctor, and so did I, and if you had heard all that the aeronauts said in disfavour of Falcon, you would not have been so—”
“Pig-headed—that’s the word, squire. I can see it now, but feel that it is never too late to mend.”
“God bless you, Peters, and speedily restore you; but rouse yourself, old friend, for who knows but what your property and mine may not yet be brought back to us through the brave exertions of Harry Goodall and his friends.”
“I trust they will, and now allow me, squire, to thank you sincerely for this visit; it has eased my mind and will make me better able to bear this attack of gout, if not to cure it.”
“One word at parting, doctor, I have not long heard that Falcon has been seen on board a boulder boat, and a later addition is that he was taken up afterwards by a smack with a view of working round to Folkestone or Boulogne. Lucy has gone off to Newhaven with a letter, and to gather further intelligence.”
“Well, well, I hope he will be caught before long, squire. Good-bye, good-bye.”
Meanwhile, Lucy had reached Lewes in a light trap. Directly she alighted, she made her way to the platform from which the Newhaven train started, and, while descending the steps, she was asked by a gentlemanly-looking person, evidently in a great state of excitement, “If he was in time for the tidal train?”
“Oh, yes, plenty, sir, and to spare,” said Lucy. “It won’t leave for twenty minutes, though I don’t really know if it is the boat train.”