"Lord! no, sir," replied the little man, and Charles's heart went straight down into his boots and stayed there. "I'm come down from Birmingham after him. He's no poacher. The police have wanted him very special for some time for the Francisco forgery case."
CHAPTER XXVII.
Charles watched the detective and the policeman hoist Raymond into the dog-cart and drive away, supporting him between them. No doubt it had been the wheels of that dog-cart which they had heard in the distance. Then he turned to Brooks.
"How is it you remained behind?" he asked, sharply.
Brooks's face fell, and he explained that just as he was starting in the pursuit he had caught his legs on "Sir Chawles sir's" stick, and "barked hisself."
"I remember," said Charles. "You got in my way. You should look out where you are going. You may as well go and find my stick."
The poor victim of duplicity departed rather crestfallen, and at this moment Dare came up.
"We have lost him," he said, wiping his forehead. "I don't know what has become of him."
"He doubled back here," said Charles. "I followed, but you all went on. The police have got him. He was not a poacher after all, so they said."