The man rode into the village at full gallop, and, seeing the two police horses outside the mail office, came straight on toward them.
He flung out of the saddle and saluted the inspector. Then he began fumbling in an inner pocket. Fyles understood his intention and sharply warned him.
“Not here. Now, in one word. Is it news from down East?”
The man nodded.
“Yes, sir. I believe so.”
“You believe so?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Jason told me I’d to make here to-day—mid-day. Said you were waiting for this letter to act. He also said I was to avoid speaking to any one in the place till I’d delivered the despatch into your hands. He also said I was to remain here under your orders.”
“Damnation! And we’ve had letters through the mail every day.”
“Beg pardon, sir——”
McBain made a sign for silence, and the man broke off. But Fyles bade him go on.