Mr Mason and Fred Fenwicke exchanged glances; but no one satisfied Barrett’s curiosity.
“You see I couldn’t well distinguish the face of the ruffian who fired at me,” he said, in response to my inquiry; “but I heard the woman address him as Selby.”
The woman! Could it have been Judith who had accompanied them, or was it Anita Bardi?
Barrett presently left to report the incident by telegraph to his inspector at Spalding, and the rector took counsel with us. A bold attempt to search had evidently been made, and had only been abandoned by the ill-advised action of one of the party. Although the constable had been the victim of a dastardly outrage it had certainly been fortunate that we had marked out the spot and set watch upon it. Our enemies had made wrong calculations at Threave by not having noted the second clause of the instructions; but here, with the aid of the plan, they had certainly hit upon the exact spot designated by the monk Godfrey.
Mr Mason had gone out to obtain assistance in our work of excavation, which we decided should commence at once, when a telegram was brought to me which showed that it had been handed in at King’s Cross Station, and read as follows:
“Come to Grosvenor Street. Most important. Must see you immediately. If I am not at home go to Harpur Street; but if you desire to fulfill your promise to help me, do not lose an instant—Judith.”
My first impulse was to read the telegram aloud; but my companions, being in ignorance of my intimate friendship with her, I resolved to keep my own counsel.
“I have to return to London at once,” I announced, crushing the message in my hand. “You fellows will continue the search, and I will return tonight if possible.”
“Private business?” queried Sammy, who had lit his morning cigarette airily, and stood with his hands deep in his trouser pockets, regarding me with some attention.
I responded in the affirmative; and, turning, told the maid to order a trap at once to take me to Peterborough Station.