Oh, as to that, the hotel had a Ford for visitors. They hired out that when they weren't needing it themselves. A Ford in the constable's opinion evidently did not come under the heading "cars."
Presently the constable said, "There's Mr. Logan away to see the new twins east at Arkless," and Grant saw a rather heavy figure appear on the high road on the Garnie side of the manse and proceed upriver at a businesslike pace.
"I thought that road led only over the hill to Garnie," Grant said.
"Oh yes, the high road. But where the high road begins to go up the hill there's a track goes off along the river to the crofts you can see from the ro'd. That's where he's going evernow, Mr. Logan. And that's why he's walking. He's not very fond of walking."
The constable stayed for a long time quite contentedly watching Grant fish, evidently glad to find interest for his eyes in a spot usually vacant, and Grant revolved the problem of what he would do if the Logan car appeared suddenly on the high road beyond the manse, bound for Garnie and the south. He would have no guarantee that Lamont was the passenger. It was too far away to identify any one. He would have to make certain of that before he did anything. And then it would be a choice between getting busy on a telephone or giving chase. The hotel Ford, he supposed. Or perhaps Drysdale would lend his car? But the afternoon wore on, the light took that white, hard, unsympathetic look that it does about four o'clock, the constable trundled his bicycle away to the village where he could procure the patching materials which he had evidently forgotten, and still no one came from the manse. At five o'clock Grant ate his remaining sandwiches, and began to consider what other possibilities there were of cadging an entrance to the manse. The thought of a dip in the river — even if it was only a momentary one — became less and less pleasant as the evening wore on. His thoughts were interrupted and his difficulties miraculously solved by heavy footsteps behind him. He looked round to see Mr. Logan at his back.
The minister gave him a hearty good evening, and his heavy red face with its hooked nose beamed benevolently. "It doesn't look as if you have had much luck," he said.
No, Grant said; he had been at it for a whole day, and had had nothing. They would laugh at him when he got back to Garnie.
"Oh, you're not staying at Carninnish House?"
No, Grant said; he was staying at the hotel at Garnie, but Mr. Drysdale had very kindly given him permission to fish the Finley for a day or two.
"Are the Garnie people sending for you?"