"What I believe to be the truth. Can you get to-morrow off, and come home to my place with me—that is, if you're game for a man hunt."
"Rather! But I say—are you sure?"
"Well, er—reasonably. The solution I have in mind seems to satisfy most of the conditions of the problem; we are up in the clouds somewhere, beyond all rules. The only methods for such problems are trial and error. Will you come?"
"You bet, but I must get a change of togs, first. What time do you want to go?"
"Oh, in the afternoon some time. You can slip over to your digs in the morning, and you might bring your man, Hiscocks, if you can. I'll get Bounce."
So it was settled, and at half-past three on Monday afternoon, a select-party of four got into a third-class carriage en route for Chilcombe. Carstairs explained the situation. "We're going to catch a burglar, that's all, but I want to keep him myself, that's why I don't want the police brought into it. I hope that they'll come into action later for a double bag."
Bounce and the ex-marine nodded and asked no questions. They were trained that way, but Whitworth leaned forward and spoke. "I say, it's a ghastly business you know, that—that thing was half an animal, I'll swear it, he didn't speak a word, only gave an animal sort of snarl, and his eyes as he looked into my face were the eyes of a wild beast." He gave a little shudder. "By God, we ought to kill it on sight."
"We can't do that, you know, but we can stun it. You saw that man who was killed at the vicarage before, Bounce?"
"Yes, sir; mangled 'e was."
"I know. I saw Donovan." Carstairs puffed at his pipe. "Must be as strong as an elephant. We'd better stun him for a start."