the end of that wretched night came at last. when the welcome morning broke i found that a great change had taken place out-of-doors. the fierce snow-storm had been the farewell of the frost. the heavy rain that followed had filled the roads with slushy and rapidly-thawing snow. i managed to extort some of a breakfast from my host, then, having recompensed him according to my promise, not his deserts, started, as soon as i could, on the bare back of my unfortunate steed, for midcombe, which place, after my night’s experience, seemed gifted with merits not its own.

i was surprised upon leaving the house to find it was of larger dimensions than, from the little i saw of it during the night, i had imagined. it was altogether a better class of residence than i had supposed. my surly friend accompanied me until he had placed me on the main road, where i could make no possible mistake. he was kind enough to promise to assist any one i might send out in getting the dog-cart once more under way. then, with a hearty wish on my part that i might never again meet with his like, we parted.

i found my way to midcombe without much trouble. i took off my things, had a wash, and, like a sensible man for once, went to bed. but i did not forget to send a boy straight off to the nearest telegraph station. my message to brand was a brief one. it simply said: “tell your friend i have found his man.” this duty done, i dismissed all speculation as to the[282] result from my mind, and settled down to make up arrears of sleep.

i was surprised at the reply received that same evening from brand: “we shall be with you as soon as we can get down to-morrow. meet us at station.” from this it was clear that my friend was wanted particularly—all the better! i turned to the time-table and found that, owing to changes and delays, they could not get to c——, the nearest station to midcombe, until three o’clock in the afternoon. i inquired about the crippled dog-cart. it had been brought in; so i left strict instructions that a shaft of some sort was to be rigged in time for me to drive over the next day and meet the doctor and his friend.

they came as promised. it was a comfort to see friends of any description, so i gave them a hearty welcome. carriston took hold of both my hands, and shook them so warmly that i began to feel i had discovered a long-lost father of his in my friend. i had almost forgotten the young fellow’s appearance, or he looked a very different man to-day from the one i had seen when last we met. then he was a wan, pensive, romantic, poetical-looking sort of fellow; now he seemed full of energy, vitality, and grit. poor old brand looked as serious as an undertaker engaged in burying his own mother.

carriston began to question me, but brand stopped him. “you promised i should make inquiries first,” he said. then he turned to me.

“look here, richard,”—when he calls me richard i know he is fearfully in earnest—“i believe you have brought us down on a fool’s errand; but let us go to some place where we can talk together for a few minutes.”

i lead them across the road to the railway inn. we entered a room, and, having for the sake of appearances ordered a little light refreshment, told the waiter to shut the door from the outside. brand settled down with the air of a cross-examining counsel. i expected to see him pull out a new testament and put me on my oath.

“now, richard,” he said, “before we go further i want to know your reasons for thinking this man, about whom you telegraphed, is carriston’s man, as you call him.”

“reasons! why of course he is the man. carriston gave me his photograph. the likeness is indisputable—leaving the finger-joint out of the question.”

here carriston looked at my cross-examiner triumphantly. the meaning of that look i have never to this hour understood. but i laughed because i knew old brand had for once made a mistake, and was going to be called to account for it. carriston was about to speak, but the doctor waved him aside.

“now, richard, think very carefully. you speak of the missing finger-joint. we doctors know how many people persuade themselves into all sorts of thing. tell me, did you notice the likeness before you saw the mutilated finger, or did the fact of the finger’s being mutilated bring the likeness to your mind?”

“bless the man!” i said; “one would think i had no eyes. i tell you there is no doubt about this man being the original of the photo.”

“never mind; answer my question.”

“well, then, i am ashamed to confess it, but i put the photo in my pocket, and forgot all about it until i had recognized the man, and pulled out the likeness to make sure. i didn’t even know there was a printed description at the foot, nor that any member was wanting. confound it, brand! i’m not such a duffer as you think.”

brand did not retaliate. he turned to his friend and said gravely, “to me the matter is inexplicable. take your own course, as i promised you should.” then he sat down, looking deliciously crest-fallen, and wearing the discontented expression always natural to him when worsted in argument.

it was now carriston’s turn. he plied me with many questions. in fact, i gave him the whole history of my adventure. “what kind of house is it?” he asked.

“better than a cottage—scarcely a farm-house. a place, i should think, with a few miserable acres of bad land belonging to it. one of those wretched little holdings which are simply curses to the country.”

he made lots of other inquiries, the purport of which i could not then divine. he seemed greatly impressed when i told him that the man had never for a moment left me alone. he shot a second glance of triumph at brand, who still kept silent, and looked as if all the wind had been taken out of his sails.

“how far is the place?” asked carriston. “could you drive me there after dark?”

at this question the doctor returned to life. “what do you mean to do?” he asked his friend. “let us have no nonsense. even now i feel sure that fenton is mislead by some chance resemblance—”

“deuce a bit, old chap,” i said.

“well, whether or not, we needn’t do foolish things.[285] we must go and swear information, and get a search-warrant, and the assistance of the police. the truth is, richard,” he continued, turning to me, “we have reason to believe, or i should say carriston persists in fancying, that a friend of his has for some time been kept in durance by the man whom you say you recognized.”

“likely enough,” i said. “he looked villain enough for anything up to murder.”

“anyway,” said brand, “we must do everything according to law.”

“law! i want no law,” answered carriston. “i have found her, as i knew i should find her. i shall simply fetch her, and at once. you can come with me or stay here, as you like, doctor; but i am afraid i must trouble your friend to drive me somewhere near the place he speaks of.”

foreseeing an adventure and great fun—moreover, not unmoved by thoughts of revenge—i placed myself entirely at carriston’s disposal. he expressed his gratitude, and suggested that we should start at once. in a few minutes we were ready, and mounted the dog-cart. brand, after grumbling loudly at the whole proceeding, finished up by following us, and installing himself in the back seat. carriston placed a parcel he carried inside the cart, and away we went.

it was now nearly dark, and raining cats and dogs. i had my lamps lighted, so we got along without much difficulty. the roads were deep with mud; but by this time the snow had been pretty nearly washed away from everywhere. i don’t make a mistake in a road twice, so in due course we reached the scene of my upset. here i drew up.

“the house lies about five hundred yards up the lane,” i told carriston; “we had better get out here.”

“what about the horse?” asked brand.

“no chance of any one passing this way on such a night as this; so let us put out the lamps and tie him up somewhere.”

we did so; then struggled on afoot until we saw the gleam of light which had been so welcomed by me two nights before.

it was just about as dark as pitch; but guided by the light, we went on until we stood in front of the house, where a turf bank and a dry hedge hid us from sight, although on such a night we had little fear of our presence being discovered.

“what do you mean to do now?” asked brand in a discontented whisper. “you can’t break into the house.”

carriston said nothing for a minute; then i felt him place his hand on my shoulder.

“are there any horses; any cows about the place?” he asked.

i told him i thought that my surly friend rejoiced in the possession of a horse and a cow.

“very well. then we must wait. he’ll come out to see to them before he goes to bed,” said carriston, as decidedly as a general giving orders just before a battle.

i could not see how brand expressed his feelings upon hearing this order from our commander—i know i shrugged my shoulders, and if i said nothing, i thought a deal. the present situation was all very well for a strongly-interested party like carriston, but he could scarcely expect others to relish the prospect[287] of waiting, it might be for hours, under that comfortless hedge. we were all wet to the skin, and although i was extremely anxious to see the end of the expedition, and find poetical justice meted out to my late host, carriston’s fabian tactics lacked the excitement i longed for. brand, in spite of his disapproval of the whole course of action, was better off than i was. as a doctor, he must have felt sure that, provided he could survive the exposure, he would secure two fresh patients. however, we made no protest, but waited for events to develop themselves.