CHAPTER XVI
The Close of a Tragedy
Winter was in the Quarry Wood and feeling his way but trusting to hands and feet when he heard, and soon saw, Furneaux and the two constables coming toward him. The little detective held the electric torch above his head, and was striding on without looking to right or left. The bitterness of defeat was in his face. Life had turned to gall and wormwood. As the expressive American phrase has it, he was chewing mud.
The Superintendent smiled. He knew what torment his friend was suffering.
"Hello, there!" he said gruffly, and the three men jumped, for their nerves were on edge.
"Oh, it's you, Napoleon," yelped Furneaux. "Behold Soult and his army corps, come to explain how Sir John Moore dodged him at Corunna."
"You've lost your man, then?"
"Botched the job at the moment of victory. And all through a rope end."