"Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallow
followed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard him
commission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven. When they'd
gone Swallow got hold of another taxi, and told its driver to take him
to Scarhaven, too. Off they went--in a pitch-black night, I'm told--"
"We know that!" said Vickers with a glance at Copplestone. "We motored
from Norcaster--just about the same time."
"Well," continued Gilling, "it was at any rate so dark that Swallow's
driver, who appears to have been a very nervous chap, made very poor
progress. Also he took one or two wrong turnings. Finally he ran his car
into a guide post which stood where two roads forked--and there Swallow
was landed, scarcely halfway to Scarhaven. They couldn't get the car to
move, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord at
the nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it was
near or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did get
there, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay."
"The _Pike_, of course," muttered Copplestone.
"Of course--and some men on the quay told him," continued Gilling. "Well,
that put Swallow in a fix. He was dead certain, of course, that his man
was on that yacht. However, he didn't want to rouse suspicion, so he
didn't ask any of those quayside men if they'd seen the Squire.
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