‘But that Jones,’ said Ernest eagerly, ‘what a ruffian! what a cold-blooded villain he must have been! How I should like to fall across him. I could cheerfully go to see him hanged.’
‘Perhaps you may have that gratification yet,’ replied Mr. Merlin with a grim smile. ‘More unlikely things have happened. Hallo! here comes Greffham.’
The gentleman referred to now sauntered up, accurately turned out in quite the best boots and breeches which Ernest had seen since he left England. His hunting scarf was adorned with the regulation Reynard brooch, and from throat to long-necked, heavy polished spur he was altogether point-device.
He looked a shade paler, probably from the effect of his yesterday’s long ride, but his smile was as ready, his repartee as incisive, as ever, while his light-blue eye fell with its usual glance of cold scrutiny upon the advanced guard of the party.
‘What a fellow you are, Merlin,’ said he, ‘starting at this unearthly hour. Why didn’t you give a man a chance of a little sleep, who had, what you never get, a day’s work yesterday?’
‘My dear Greffham,’ replied the Inspector with irresistible urbanity, ‘I was certain that you and Bright would enjoy the fresh morning air above all things. I know he’s a terribly early riser, and you can wake when it suits you; so I determined, under the circumstances, upon an early start.’
‘All right,’ quoth Bright; ‘I don’t care how early you get away. It can’t be too early for me.’
‘And besides, Greffham,’ said Merlin, ‘you know the short cut to Running Creek, which not every one can find. I propose to stay the night at the Ten-Mile Inn, and to make for the scene of the murder next day.’
‘Come on, then,’ said Greffham harshly; ‘what the devil are we standing prating for? If you are in such a cursed hurry why don’t you get away instead of standing here burning daylight?’
‘We were waiting for Markham,’ said Merlin good-humouredly, ‘but I daresay the old fellow will pull up. Come along, then. I’m awfully obliged to you for coming, Greffham; I am indeed!’