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Updated: May 26, 2025
"The truth is, I'm making some inquiry myself about Pratt and I don't want this to interfere with it. You keep me informed of what you find out, and I'll help you all I can while you're here. It may be " A clerk came into the room and looked at his master. "Mr. George Pickard, of the Green Man at Whitcliffe, sir," he said. "Well?" asked Eldrick.
There is a certain elevated and wind-swept spot, scarcely more than a long mile from Richmond, that commands a view over a wide extent of romantic country. Vantage-points of this type, within easy reach of a fair-sized town, are inclined to be overrated, and, what is far worse, to be spoiled by the litter of picnic parties; but Whitcliffe Scar is free from both objections.
"He did," replied Pickard. "Near Pratt's lodgin' place." "Did or does Pratt live near you, then?" "Closish by happen ten minutes' walk. There's few o' houses a sort o' terrace, like, on t' edge o' what they call Whitcliffe Moor. Pratt lodged lodges now for all I know to t' contrary i' one o' them." "Did Parrawhite give you any idea that he was going to the house in which Pratt lodged?" "No!
It was in an endeavour to get at some first stage of a solution of this problem that Byner, having breakfasted at the Central Hotel on his second day in the town, went out immediately afterwards, asked his way to Whitcliffe, and was directed to an electric tram which started from the Town Hall Square, and after running through a district of tall warehouses and squat weaving-sheds, began a long and steady climb to the heights along the town.
If Pratt had only known what was going on in the old quarries at Whitcliffe, about the very time that he was riding slowly out to Barford on his bicycle, he would not only have accelerated his pace, but would have taken good care to have chosen another route: he would also have made haste to exchange bicycle for railway train as quickly as possible, and to have got himself far away before anybody could begin looking for him in his usual haunts, or at places wherein there was a possibility of his being found.
Shepherd, a retired quarry-owner, who lived in a picturesque old stone house in the middle of Whitcliffe Moor, with nothing to occupy his attention but the growing of roses and vegetables, and an occasional glance at the local newspapers, listened to Prydale's request with gradually rising curiosity.
"It's not oft that I come down in t' town, and we don't hear much Barford news up our way. Well, it's this here, Mr. Eldrick you know where my place is, of course?" Eldrick nodded, and turned to Byner. "I'd better explain to you," he said. "Whitcliffe is an outlying part of the town, well up the hills a sort of wayside hamlet with a lot of our famous stone quarries in its vicinity.
The view is removed from a comparison with many others from the fact that one is situated at the dividing-line between the richest cultivation and the wildest moorlands. Whitcliffe Scar is the Mount Pisgah from whence the jaded dweller in towns can gaze into a promised land of solitude, 'Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been.
"Let me see from the Green Man, at Whitcliffe, I believe?" "Landlord, sir had that house a many years," answered Pickard, as he took a seat near the wall. "Seven year come next Michaelmas, any road." "Just so and you want to see me about the advertisement in this morning's paper?" continued Eldrick. "What about it now?" The landlord looked at Eldrick and then at Eldrick's companion.
But Pratt, after all, was only one man, one brain, one body, and could not be in two places, nor go in two ways, at the same time. He took his own way ignorant of his destruction. Byner also took a way of his own. As soon as he and Prydale left Murgatroyd's shop, they chartered the first cab they met with, and ordered its driver to go to Whitcliffe Moor.
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