Chapter Twenty.
Reveals the Truth.
“They’re goin’ to a place called Upper Wooton, about half way between Saltash and Callington, on the Launceston road. I know the village—quite a tiny place,” Gibbs said, as we went up the picturesque street of Ashburton.
“Then we’d better go straight on there.”
“They’re goin’ through Plymouth, but the most direct way, and much shorter, is through Tavistock, which would bring us right into the cross-roads at Callington. We’d save a couple of hours by that, and, after all, they’ve got a ‘forty,’ you know, while ours is only a ‘sixteen’. They’ll make better pace than us up the hills.”
“Very well,” I said, “I leave it to you. We must be there first, in any case. Are they staying the night there?”
“Their man says so. ’E’s a stranger, however, and ’e says they’re a rum party.”
“Oh! Why?” I asked in quick surprise.