‘Pooh—lead on,’ she said scornfully, ‘and don’t lose your principal actor for the sake of torturing a poor subordinate like me.’
He loosened her hand, gave her his arm, and dragged her out of the grove—making her run beside him till they had reached the rectory. A light was burning here, and an auxiliary of the detective’s awaiting him: a horse ready harnessed to a spring-cart was standing outside.
‘You have come—I wish I had known that,’ the detective said to his assistant, hurriedly and angrily. ‘Well, we’ve blundered—he’s gone—you should have been here, as I said! I was sold by that woman, Miss Aldclyffe—she watched me.’ He hastily gave directions in an undertone to this man. The concluding words were, ‘Go in to the rector—he’s up. Detain Miss Aldclyffe. I, in the meantime, am driving to Casterbridge with this one, and for help. We shall be sure to have him when it gets light.’
He assisted Anne into the vehicle, and drove off with her. As they went, the clear, dry road showed before them, between the grassy quarters at each side, like a white riband, and made their progress easy. They came to a spot where the highway was overhung by dense firs for some distance on both sides. It was totally dark here.
There was a smash; and a rude shock. In the very midst of its length, at the point where the road began to drop down a hill, the detective drove against something with a jerk which nearly flung them both to the ground.
The man recovered himself, placed Anne on the seat, and reached out his hand. He found that the off-wheel of his gig was locked in that of another conveyance of some kind.
‘Hoy!’ said the officer.
Nobody answered.
‘Hoy, you man asleep there!’ he said again.
No reply.