“Well—sir,” responded Gibbs, somewhat reluctantly, “it ain’t for me to repeat what ’e said, seein’ as they’re friends o’ yourn.”
“Oh! whatever you say will make no difference,” I assured him. “Besides, they’re not exactly my friends. Two of them I’ve never seen before in my life. So you can speak quite frankly. Indeed, I’m very anxious to hear what makes their man think they are mysterious.” I recollected that Murray’s reticence had aroused the curiosity of the hotel proprietor at Swanage, and wondered what else had occurred to cause the chauffeur to suspect that something was wrong.
“The car belongs to somebody named Rusden, who lives in Worcestershire, and the chauffeur is in his employ. Mr Rusden has lent the car to the party,” Gibbs explained. “The chauffeur started from Stourbridge yesterday morning, with orders to meet a lady and gentleman at Chippenham station at midnight last night, and take ’em on all through the night to Swanage. There ’e picked up the gentleman and the young lady, and after two hours’ rest was ordered to drive on down to Plymouth with all possible speed.”
“But what makes him think there’s any mystery about them? He, no doubt, received orders from his master.”
“No, ’e didn’t. That’s just it. Mr Rusden told him to go to Chippenham and take the lady and gentleman to Aylesbury, whereas they gave him orders entirely different. An’ besides that, the chauffeur overheard something this morning.”
“What did he overhear?”
“The two men were talking together, and the elder said ’e hoped as ’ow they wouldn’t be followed, or the whole show ’ud be give away.”
“Curious,” I remarked. “Very curious.”
“Yes, sir. ’E told me as ’ow all along the road they’ve been urgin’ ’im to go faster, but ’e wasn’t goin’ to risk being caught by a ‘heg’og’. ’E’s evidently rather troubled, because ’e don’t know what ’is master ’ull say at ’im comin’ down here. Perhaps they’re flyin’ from the police—who knows?”
I laughed his suggestion into ridicule, yet at heart I was much puzzled. What could it mean?