I will have my sensation, you see,
Furley. I have suffered--thank heavens mine is a thick skull!--
and I will not be cheated of my compensations."
"Well, keep your mouth shut, there's a good fellow, until after I
have made my report to the Intelligence Officer," Furley begged.
"He'll be here about four. You don't mind being about?"
"Not in the least," Julian promised. "So long as I am home for
dinner, my people will be satisfied."
"I don't know how you'll amuse yourself this morning," Furley
observed, "and I'm afraid I sha'n't be able to get out for the
flighting this evening."
"Don't worry about me," Julian begged. "Remember that I am
practically at home. It's only three miles to the Hall from here
so you mustn't look upon me as an ordinary guest. I am going for
a tramp in a few minutes."
"Lucky chap!" Furley declared enviously. "Sunshine like this
makes one feel as though one were on the Riviera instead of in
Norfolk. Shall you visit the scene of your adventure?"
"I may," Julian answered thoughtfully. "The instinct of the
sleuthhound is beginning to stir in me. There is no telling how
far it may lead."
Julian started on his tramp about half an hour later. He paused
first at a bend in the road, about fifty yards down, and stepped
up close to the hedge.
"The instinct of the sleuthhound," he said to himself, "is all
very well, but why on earth haven't I told Furley about the car?"
He paused to consider the matter, conscious only of the fact that
each time he had opened his lips to mention it, he had felt a
marked but purposeless disinclination to do so.
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