“Search away,” I answered, as I heard the outside bath-room door open and close softly.
They returned empty-handed, but not greatly disappointed.
“Wet night, corporal,” I ventured.
“One of the worst as ever I knew, sir,” he replied, eying the whiskey bottle and the two half-drained glasses.
“’Ad a long march, sir, fourteen miles.”
I pushed the bottle toward him, and with a deprecatory salute he turned out a stiff drink.
“’Ere’s to yer ’ealth, sir, an’ may ye always ’ave an extra glass ready for a visitor.”
I smiled, and motioned for his men to do likewise, and then, because he was a man of sweet composure and had not asked any questions as to the extra glass and chair, told him that his bird had flown.
“Bad ’cess to him, sir, ’e’s led us a pretty chase for these last four weeks. If ’e was only a deserter I wouldn’t mind, but ’e’s a kidnapper. Leastways, Tommy Loud’s young’n turned up missin’ the day he skipped, an’ we ain’t seen nothin’ of ’er since.”
“Is this she?” I asked, leading him to the cot.