That's pretty, now! Hallo! here's the doctor!"
Coristine came up at the gallop, and reported that all the people he
expected to find at the Carruthers' were there, Grinstun man, Mrs.
Carmichael, and Marjorie, included, all except Miss Du Plessis, who was
staying at a house three miles this side of the farm, helping to nurse a
sick neighbour.
"Has Rawdon seen her?" asked the detective. The lawyer did not know, but
suggested that they could find out by calling at the house of Mrs.
Talfourd, the sick woman, on the way.
"How far are we from it?" enquired Mr. Nash.
"About a mile or a mile and a-half," replied Coristine.
"Then, Mr. Wilkinson, let us stir our stumps a bit. Can you sing or
whistle? There's nothing like a good tune to help a quick march."
"Yes; sing up, Wilks," cried The Cavalry; and the dominie started
"Onward, Christian Soldiers," in which the others joined, the detective
in a soft falsetto, indistinguishable from a half-cultivated woman's
voice. He was combining business with pleasure, dissimulation with
outward praise.
"Pretty good that for a blooming young lady of five foot ten," remarked
Mr.
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