“And what do you expect to find there?” Wendover persisted.
“Oh, a shell or two, most likely,” Sir Clinton retorted caustically. “Would you like to bet on it, squire?”
Wendover perceived that the chief constable did not intend to put his cards on the table and that nothing would be gained by further persistence.
Chapter X.
The Attack on the Australian
Next morning, before going to the links, Sir Clinton went to the shore and superintended the start of the excavating work there; but when once the actual digging had begun, he seemed to lose interest in the matter. It was not until late in the afternoon that he paid his second visit, accompanied by Wendover. Even then he contented himself with the most casual inspection, and soon turned back towards the hotel.
“What are you after with all this spade-work?” Wendover demanded as they sauntered up the road.
Sir Clinton turned and made a gesture towards the little crowd of inquisitive visitors and natives who had congregated around the diggers.
“I've heard rumours, squire, that the Lynden Sands public thinks the police aren't busy enough in the sleuth-hound business. Unofficial opinion seems divided as to whether we're pure duds or merely lazy. They want to see something actually being done to clear up these mysteries. Well, they've got something to talk about now, you see. That's always gain. So long as they can stand and gape at the digging down there, they won't worry us too much in the things we really have to do.”
“But seriously, Clinton, what do you expect to find?”
Sir Clinton turned a bland smile on his companion.