Copplestone came out of the station-master's office at Inverness with a
couple of telegrams and read their contents over to his companions in the
dining-room to which they adjourned.
"This is from Mrs. Greyle," he said. "'All right and much relieved by
wire from Thurso. Bring Audrey home as quick as possible.' That's good!
And this--Great Scott! This is from Gilling! Listen!--'Just heard from
Petherton of your rescue. Come straight and sharp Norcaster. Meet me at
the "Angel." Big things afoot. Spurge most anxious see you. Important
news. Gilling.' So things have been going on," he concluded, turning
the second telegram over to Vickers. "I suppose we'll have to travel
all night?"
"Night express in an hour," replied Vickers. "We shall make Norcaster
about five-thirty tomorrow morning."
"Then let us wire the time of our arrival to Gilling. I'm anxious to know
what has brought him up there," said Copplestone. "And well wire to Mrs.
Greyle, too," he added, turning to Audrey. "She'll know then that you're
absolutely on the way."
"I wonder what we're on the way to?" remarked Vickers with a grim smile.
"It strikes me that our recent alarms and excursions will have been as
nothing to what awaits us at Norcaster."
What did await them on a cold, dismal morning at Norcaster was Gilling,
stamping up and down a windswept platform.
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