But the constable was of additional value. His researches in Scarsdale provided a fairly accurate history and description of the two denizens of the Grange House.
Philip himself had, of course, seen "Dr. Williams" in broad daylight and undisguised—not yet could he remember where he heard that smooth-tongued voice. Jocky Mason he only pictured hazily after the lapse of years, but the policeman's details of his personal appearance coincided exactly with Philip's recollection, allowing for age and the hardships of convict life.
At last came the doctor, with a valise.
"I am sorry," he laughed, "but all the money I can muster at such short notice is twelve pounds."
"I began life once before with three halfpence," was the cheery reply.
The few inhabitants of the hamlet gathered to see them off, and the fisherman's wife was moved to screw her apron into her eyes when Philip shook hands with her, saying that she would see him again in a few days.
"Eh, but he's a bonny lad," was her verdict. "'Twas a fair sham' te treat him soa."
At Scarsdale and at Malton again came loving words from Evelyn. Now she knew who it was who telegraphed to her.
And the mysterious Philip Anson at York remained dumb.
"The wretch!" she said to her mother. "To dare to open my letter and send me impudent replies."