Winter grinned broadly again.
“Oh yes, we have,” he cried. “Mr. Ooma’s warrant has been in my breast-pocket for three days.”
“What a thoughtful fellow you are,” murmured Brett. “In that case we can dispense with local assistance. We five can surely tackle any man living.”
“What can have become of Capella?” said David Hume, when they were all seated and bowling along the road to Beechcroft.
“It is impossible to say what such a mad ass would be up to,” commented his cousin. “He has probably gone back to London from some wayside station, and failed to find his servant to tell him before the train moved on.”
“What do you think, Mr. Brett?” inquired Winter.
“I can form no opinion. I only wish Ooma was in gaol. For once, Winter, I appreciate the strength of your handcuffing policy.”