“Lead the way, then.”
“I’ll soon show you, Mr. Carter,” Henley added, with the same sinister significance. “Come on, Ginger. He’s some dog, Carter, some dog. Ginger can’t be beat.”
Nick did not reply. He followed the swarthy ruffian over the rough crossroad, stopping at intervals to study the ground, stating that he wanted to examine the footprints of the missing couple, if any could be found. He[Pg 27] delayed frequently in this way—but with an entirely different object in view.
Twenty minutes brought them to a path through the woodland, into which Henley struck without hesitation, remarking grimly:
“They must have gone this way. It was on this side of the pond that Ginger nosed out the bloodstained togs.”
“How far is the pond from here?” Nick inquired, following him.
“Not far,” Henley gruffly assured him. “It’s over the hill and down into the valley. There’s another path on t’other side of it, leading to a road running south.”
“Toward Fordham, then.”
“That’s what. Gordon must have known about the pond. ’Tain’t very big, but it’s as deep as a volcano. The devil himself couldn’t raise a corpse sunk to the bottom of it. Gordon knew that, mebbe.”
“Quite likely, Henley, since he evidently wanted to get rid of the girl,” Nick allowed.