Twiddel was the first to recover himself.
“Let me see the letter,” he said; “I haven’t finished it.”
Welsh read it aloud—
“Dear Twiddel,—I regret to inform you that the patient, Francis Beveridge, whom you placed under my care, has escaped from Clankwood. We have made every inquiry consistent with strict privacy, but unfortunately have not yet been able to lay our hands upon him. We only know that he left Ashditch Junction in the London express, and was seen walking out of St Euston’s Cross. How he has been able to maintain himself in concealment without money or clothes, I am unable to imagine.
“As no inquiries have been made for him by his cousin Mr Welsh, or any other of his friends or relatives, I am writing to you that you may inform them, and I hope that this letter may follow you abroad without delay. I may [pg 185] add that the circumstances of his escape showed most unusual cunning, and could not possibly have been guarded against.
“Trusting that you are having a pleasant holiday, I am, yours very truly,
Adolphus S. Congleton.”
The two looked at one another in silence for a minute, and then Welsh said, fiercely, “You must catch him again, Twiddel. Do you think I am going to have all my risk and trouble for nothing?”
“I must catch him! Do you suppose I let him loose?[”]
“You must catch him, all the same.”