Part 44 (2/2)

”Of course; no tide could hurt her.”

”It's plain then that Marshall thinks you're wanted on Miss Woodhouse's account. I can have the motorcycle ready in five minutes, and if we pull out now we can be home soon after dark. Will you tell d.i.c.k?”

”No. We'll put him on the train, if there is one. Get that railway guide.”

Whitney opened it.

”If you mean to see him off, you'll have to wait an hour; and, on the whole, I think you'd better. He seems to have made a number of acquaintances in the bar. Anyway, with this light frost, the roads will be good and hard.”

d.i.c.k showed some unwillingness to leave the town, but Andrew was firm and put him on the train. When it started, he joined Whitney, who was waiting with the motorcycle.

The light was getting dim as they ran down the long dip to Hawick, though pale saffron, barred with leaden gray, shone above the western hills. When they swept down the last hill, frosty mist hung about the woolen mills in the hollow, and Whitney throttled his engine as they jolted past glimmering lights and half-seen houses.

”It doesn't look very cheerful for a fifty-mile run, but I suppose you want to get on,” he remarked.

”Yes,” said Andrew. ”I hope d.i.c.k won't miss the train at one of the junctions, but he'll be all right if he reaches Carlisle. He can't well get into trouble at the place we stay at there.”

The mist melted into the keen brightness of a frosty night as they climbed beside Teviot to the snow-sprinkled moors. Whitney's eyes were watering and his hands numb as they crossed the high watershed.

”We haven't lost much time, so far, but I suppose I'd better let her go her best,” he said. ”There oughtn't to be much traffic on the road.”

Andrew nodded and pulled the rug tighter round him as the motorcycle leaped forward down the hill. He was eager to get back, for he felt anxious. It was not for nothing that Marshall had warned him that he was wanted.

There was moonlight in the shallow depression that led down from the summit, but soon the hilltops rose higher and they plunged into a dark glen. A glimmer of light flashed up to meet them, and as the side-car, rocking wildly, raced past the Mosspaul hotel, Andrew remembered what had happened there a few months previously. He had seen since then that d.i.c.k had not been in much danger when Staffer's car swerved; the risk of being struck down had been run by him only. Well, that did not matter much. If any one was threatened now, it was neither himself nor d.i.c.k, and it was horrible to feel that Elsie might be in some danger.

Whitney was driving recklessly fast, but Andrew frowned impatiently as he watched the hillsides unfold out of the dark and rush by while the throbbing of the engine filled the narrow glen.

They swung out at Ewes doors, leaning over hard as the car took the curve with an inch or two between the wheel and the drop to the burn.

Then the widening valley grew bright again and they raced up and down rolling hillsides, past scattered farms and white cothouses, until the lights of Langholm stretched across the hollow. Whitney slowed his engine here, but they narrowly escaped the wall, as they took the bridge below the town, and then sped on again furiously through the woods that line the brawling Esk.

Appleyard was reached in time for dinner, and Andrew was relieved to find that Staffer was not at home. Everything was as usual; it was difficult to imagine any cause for alarm; and he wondered whether he had been needlessly disturbed. After dinner, Mrs. Woodhouse took Whitney into the drawing-room and Andrew found Elsie knitting in a corner of the hall.

She looked up with a smile when he sat down near her.

”Haven't you come home earlier than you planned?” she asked.

Andrew studied her face. It was quiet and undisturbed, but he suspected a thoughtfulness that she meant to hide.

”Yes,” he said. ”I got a postcard from Marshall. He's at Stranraer and seemed to think I ought to look after the boat.”

”The boat? But it's fine weather. Isn't she quite safe?”

”Oh, the tides are pretty high and run up the gutter fast.”

Elsie counted her st.i.tches, and then gave him a quiet look.

”d.i.c.k was with you,” she said; ”so it couldn't have been on his account that you came back.”

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