Part 47 (2/2)
”Go to Scotland Yard, and set the detectives to work?”
”In heaven's name no, boy! We must be our own detectives, and hunt them out. Curse the young scoundrel. I might have known he would be after no good. An infernal poacher on our preserves, boy.”
”Yes, guv'nor; and he has got clear off with the game.”
”Then you must run him down, and when you have found out where he is, communicate with me; I must be there at the meeting.”
”What? Lose time like that! No, guv'nor; I'll half kill him--hang me if I don't.”
”No, no! I know you feel ready to--a villain--but that won't do.
You'll only frighten the poor girl more, and she'll cling to him instead of coming away with you.”
”But, guv'nor--”
”Don't hesitate, boy; I tell you I'm right. Let's get Kate away from him, and then you may break every bone in his skin if you like.”
”But I want to give him a lesson at once.”
”Yes, of course you do--but Kate and her fortune, my boy. Once you're on the scent, telegraph to me. I'll come and stay at Day's, in Surrey Street.”
”Suppose they're gone abroad, guv'nor?”
”Well, follow them--all round the world if it's necessary. By the way, you've always been very thick with Harry; now, between men of the world, has there ever been any affair going on? You know what I mean.”
”Lots, dad.”
”Ah!--Ever married either of them?”
”Not he.”
”That's a pity,” said Wilton, ”because it would have made matters so easy. Well, there, be off. The dog-cart's at the door.”
Claud slapped his pocket, started for the station, and went up to stay at a bigger hotel than the quiet little place affected by his father; and about twelve o'clock the next day he presented himself at Garstang's office, where Barlow, the old clerk, was busy answering letters for his employer to sign.
”Morning, Barlow,” said Claud, ”Mr Harry in his room?”
”Mr Harry, sir? No, sir. I thought he was down with you, shooting and hunting.”
”Eh? Did he say that he was going down to Northwood?”
”Well, dear me! Really, Mr Claud Wilton, sir, I can't be sure. I think I did hear him say something about Northwood; but whether it was that he was going there or had come back from there I really am not sure. Many pheasants this season?”
”Oh, never mind the pheasants,” cried Claud, impatiently. ”When was that?”
”Dear me now,” said the man, thoughtfully; ”now when was that--Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday--?”
<script>