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"Left Scarhaven, anyhow for London," replied Gilling. "An hour ago I happened to be at the station, buying a paper, when he drove up luggage and man with him, so I knew he was off for some time. And I took good care to dodge round by the booking-office when the man took the tickets. King's Cross. So that's all right, for the time being." "How do you mean all right?" asked Copplestone.
"I feel sure they did, but anyhow, these trains to the North are usually very long ones, and you were probably in a different part," replied Gilling. "Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallow followed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard him commission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven.
But at High Nick itself they met another car, hurrying up from Norcaster, and bringing Sir Cresswell Oliver and three other men who bore the unmistakable stamp of the police force. In one of them Copplestone recognized the inspector from Scarhaven.
Of course," he went on, as they moved away through the Norcaster streets, "of course, you haven't any notion of what this urgent business is?" "None whatever!" replied Vickers. "But I'm quite sure that it is urgent, or Miss Greyle wouldn't have said so. No I don't know what her exact meaning was, but of course, I know there's something wrong about the whole thing at Scarhaven seriously wrong!"
He showed a set of fine white teeth in such a curious fashion as he spoke the last word that Copplestone and Vickers instinctively glanced at each other, with a mutual instinct of distrust. "Won't do!" said Vickers. "I insist that you put about and go into Scarhaven again." Andrius spread out his open palms and shook his head "Impossible!" he answered. "We are already en voyage. Time presses.
"There isn't a Scarhaven man amongst them. My cousin I mean you know whom I mean bought this yacht just as it stood, from an American millionaire early this spring, and he took over the captain, crew, and everything." "So we're in the hands of strangers!" exclaimed Vickers, while Copplestone dug his hands into his pockets and began to stamp about.
Oliver was that of course! and on the other hand, Marston Greyle is not a common name. Did you ever hear the name before, Mr. Copplestone?" "Only in connection with your own family I have read of the Greyles of Scarhaven," replied Copplestone. "But, after all, I suppose it is not confined to your family. There may be Greyles in America. Well it's all very queer," he went on, as he rose to leave.
But," she added, with a shake of the head which seemed to mean a good deal more than the smile, "he doesn't often come here. This is almost the only house in Scarhaven that doesn't belong to the Greyle estate. This house, and the land round it, have belonged to the Wooler family as long as the rest of the place has belonged to the Greyles.
"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers. "Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's a wide term a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hills and moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought!
Swallow, of course, couldn't wait every minute was precious. He followed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book for Northborough." "Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah, well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?" "Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," said Gilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow.
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