This satisfied the highly-esteemed local inspector, and presently he left us, expressing the hope that Rayner would very soon be himself once more.
"Well," I said to my man when the inspector had gone, "it's evident that while you were unconscious they picked you up, put you in the car, and tipped you out upon the road outside the town. Perhaps they believed you to be dead."
"Like enough, sir," he said, smiling grimly.
"They evidently trapped you, Rayner," I said, laughing. "You were not sharp enough."
"But, who'd have thought that the fellow could have come straight for me, and rendered me insensible in a tick—as he did?" asked my man as he lay, still extended on the bed, a dirty, dishevelled figure. "I know I was caught, sir; those men were cleverer than I was, I admit."
"Yes, Rayner," was my reply. "I don't blame you in the least. I'm only glad that your plight isn't worse. The men had a motor-car, it seems, at their disposal somewhere, and they went in the direction of Holt."
"That appears so, sir."
"Why, I wonder? Bertini probably obtained his machine and followed the car. They must have gone either through Wells and Fakenham, or East Dereham."
"Back to Norwich, perhaps, sir. All roads from here seem to lead to Norwich."
"But you say the incident happened close to Beacon House, where old Gregory lived—eh?"