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Suppose Bellairs had given me the slip? suppose he was now rolling on the road to Stallbridge-le-Carthew? or perhaps there already and laying before a very white-faced auditor his threats and propositions? A hasty person might have instantly pursued. Whatever I am, I am not hasty, and I was aware of three grave objections. In the first place, I could not be certain that Bellairs was gone.
Here, against all probability, my chance had come to me; for as I gallantly picked them up, I was struck with the disproportionate amount of five-sous French stamps. Some one, I reasoned, must write very regularly from France to the neighbourhood of Stallbridge-le-Carthew. Could it be Norris?
A moment later, he had fled, leaving me with a sheet of paper, thus inscribed: Norris Carthew, Stallbridge-le-Carthew, Dorset. I might have cried victory, the field of battle and some of the enemy's baggage remaining in my occupation. As a matter of fact, my moral sufferings during the engagement had rivalled those of Mr.
Singular, indeed, that while I was drifting over England with the shyster, the man we were in quest of awaited me at my own ultimate destination. Whether Mr. We were equal now; my task at Stallbridge-le-Carthew was accomplished; my interest in postage-stamps died shamelessly away; the astonished Denman was bowed out; and, ordering the horse to be put in, I plunged into the study of the time-table.
Singular, indeed, that while I was drifting over England with the shyster, the man we were in quest of awaited me at my own ultimate destination. Whether Mr. We were equal now; my task at Stallbridge-le-Carthew was accomplished; my interest in postage-stamps died shamelessly away; the astonished Denman was bowed out; and ordering the horse to be put in, I plunged into the study of the time-table.
Bellairs, one discovery had been reserved for the last moment: that of his latent and essential madness. Long before I was awake, the shyster had disappeared, leaving his bill unpaid. I did not need to inquire where he was gone, I knew too well, I knew there was nothing left me but to follow; and about ten in the morning, set forth in a gig for Stallbridge-le-Carthew.
Here, against all probability, my chance had come to me; for as I gallantly picked them up, I was struck with the disproportionate amount of five-sous French stamps. Some one, I reasoned, must write very regularly from France to the neighbourhood of Stallbridge-le-Carthew. Could it be Norris?
A moment later he had fled, leaving me with a sheet of paper thus inscribed: Norris Carthew, Stallbridge-le-Carthew, Dorset. I might have cried victory, the field of battle and some of the enemy's baggage remaining in my occupation. As a matter of fact, my moral sufferings during the engagement had rivalled those of Mr. Sebright.
Bellairs, one discovery had been reserved for the last moment that of his latent and essential madness. Long before I was awake the shyster had disappeared, leaving his bill unpaid. I did not need to inquire where he was gone, I knew too well, I knew there was nothing left me but to follow; and about ten in the morning, set forth in a gig for Stallbridge-le-Carthew.
Suppose he was now rolling on the road to Stallbridge-le-Carthew? or perhaps there already and laying before a very white-laced auditor his threats and propositions? A hasty person might have instantly pursued. Whatever I am, I am not hasty, and I was aware of three grave objections. In the first place, I could not be certain that Bellairs was gone.
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