Yet, I could only wait in impatience for the morrow. But would she return? That was the question.
The car was running well, but I had plenty of time. Therefore, after travelling five miles or so, I pulled up, took out my pipe and smoked.
I stopped my engine, and, in the silence of the night, strained my ears to catch the sound of an approaching motor-cycle. But I could hear nothing—only the distant rumble of thunder far northward across the sea.
By my watch I saw that it was nearly midnight. So I restarted my engine and went slowly along until I was within a couple of miles of Cromer, and could see the flashing of the lighthouse, and the lights of the town twinkling below. Then again I stopped and attended to my headlights, which were growing dim.
A mile and a half further on I knew that Rayner, down the dip of the hill, was lurking in the shadow. But my object in stationing myself there was to follow the mysterious cyclist, not when he went to keep his appointment, but when he left.
In order to avert suspicion, I presently turned the car round with its lights towards Norwich, but scarcely had I done so, and stopped the engine again, when I heard, in the darkness afar off, the throb of a motor-cycle approaching at a furious pace.
My lamps lit up the road, while, standing in the shadow bending as though attending to a tyre, my own form could not, I knew, be seen in the darkness.
On came the cyclist. Was it the man for whom I was watching?
He gave a blast on his horn as he rounded the corner, for he could no doubt see the reflection of my lamps from afar.
Then he passed me like a flash, but, in that instant as he came through the zone of light, I recognized his features.