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Updated: May 20, 2025
The man whom Miss Cranston had recognized as Hedley was smoking a cigarette and calmly drinking a whisky-and-soda. Afterwards I walked to the door and saw that the car was turned towards London, a reassuring fact which I reported to my companions. "Then he's going away from Frenbury, and won't be at home to-night!" cried the American girl gleefully.
At Houston's suggestion we stopped at a small hotel in Godalming, and there had supper, for it was yet early, and the American girl had dropped a hint that we should not go near Frenbury till past midnight. As we sat at table in a private room, I saw that she was exceedingly handsome, with a pair of coal-black eyes and a shrewd, alert expression, but her American accent was not always pronounced.
If he's recognized me, then the game is up," she whispered hoarsely. "But did he?" queried Houston, who sat next to her. "I don't think he noticed anybody. He simply saw that this was a private party and withdrew. He's evidently gone to the bar." "He's on his way to Frenbury from London, no doubt," said the girl. "Don't go farther if you think there's any risk," Madame urged.
"What, old Sir Joseph Bethmeyer, the millionaire whom they call the mystery man of Europe, the man who is said to have a finger in every financial pie all over Europe?" "Yes, I guess it's the same man," replied our sprightly companion. "He lives at Frenbury Park, a splendid place between Hindhead and Farnham."
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