“What child?” asked the man.
“Why, that game little chap, Master Murray Cameron, he was kidnapped, too, last night, as well as the plate and jewels.”
The driver, a stolid-looking fellow, dropped his mouth wide open on hearing this startling intelligence.
“Heaven preserve us!” he cried; “It is enough to terrify a body. There seems a sort of judgment on the place. Don’t it strike you so, guv’nor?”
“It does and it doesn’t,” said Jacob; “you whip up your horse, my man. Ah, here we are, at Pitstow, at last.”
“Shall I drive you straight to the police station?” asked the man.
“No; you put up here at the sign of the Boar; I shall want you to drive me back before long.”
Jacob jumped off the cart and entered the inn.
“A private room, quick,” he said; “a room with a fire in it.”
Jacob was conducted into a small parlour at the back of the inn.