"Ah, that is awkward. I'll keep an eye on the camp for you, and let you know if the girl's there, or if that dark chap is hanging around."
"Mister Darwen's 'ad enough I expect, sir."
"Not he, Bounce. He'll turn up smiling again."
Bounce left them shortly afterwards, and the two engineers, after partaking of a substantial meal, strolled round the town, particularly the railway station part of it, in the hope of meeting the girl. At about ten o'clock they went home and went straight to bed, they had both had a busy day, particularly Carstairs.
The hotel was old fashioned and very comfortable, but the resources in the way of bedrooms were strictly limited, partly due to the reputation of the place. Anyhow that evening the only bedroom they had to offer for Whitworth was a small one right at the top of an obscure wing of the building. Carstairs said nothing, but had his own luggage taken up there, and gave Whitworth his room, fairly large, close to a bathroom and over-looking a nicely kept lawn and shrubbery. He saw him installed in it, supplying his wants as much as possible from his own portmanteau.
"I'm sorry I brought you away in such a hurry."
"That's alright, I'm used to roughing it. It's quite a treat to me to have the electric light in my room and listen to the traffic outside. I feel like a kid on a holiday in London."
"Hope you'll sleep alright. Good night."
"Trust me for that. Good night."
Carstairs was soon in bed and asleep, but it was still dark when in his obscure corner of the building he became aware of some sort of commotion going on downstairs; he had a sort of vague impression that he had been awakened by a cry. He lay for a moment and heard a police whistle blown violently, and a voice shouting, "Police! Police!"