“I don’t presume to be sure of anything, sir; but I trace him to this neighbourhood and no farther. ’Twas on or about this very spot, your honour, that he was seen by the postilion whom I met that same night at the inn where I had the honour of first making your acquaintance. The next day, you’ll remember, I had the privilege of transacting some business with your Worship. I came directly from your house to this, but my gentleman had fled the night before. He told the landlord a cock-and-bull story of having found a wagon to take him on to Burndale. But the landlord spied on him, and saw no wagon at the place he said it was waiting. Furthermore, the landlord declares the gentleman disappeared from sight at that very place. It was night-time, and the truth must be, that the gentleman turned aside from the road. Howsoever, that’s the last account I can get of him—his disappearance at the bridge yonder. I’ve been to Burndale, but no such person has been seen there, or between here and there. Neither is there any trace of his doubling back over his course. And, besides, if he was bound for Burndale, or that side of the kingdom, why should he have come so far by the road I found him in?—there are shorter ways to Burndale from Scotland. No, sir, if I may express an opinion to your Honour, his business must have been in this neighbourhood, not beyond it; he has found snug hiding hereabouts, but I’ll have him out yet.”
“Trust you for a true terrier, eh, Filson.”
“Yes, sir, with your Worship’s approval and the forces of the law to support me. I failed in vigilance that day at the inn—allowed the corporeal desire of sleep to get the better of me, and was punished by the man slipping through my fingers. But Providence, after teaching me the lesson, sent the postilion to hear my belated inquiries, which I ought never to have postponed to the needs of the body. The question is, where could my gentleman have gone when he vanished under the nose of this old fool—begging your Worship’s pardon—that night?”
“There’s the Foxwell estate begins just beyond that bridge.”
“Yes, on one side of the road. And the Dornley on the other. I’ve quietly seen Mr. Dornley, after making sure of his loyalty in politics, and furnished him with a written description of my gentleman. I’ve hesitated to approach Mr. Foxwell, lest perhaps you might have told him how you came by that letter.”