"
Mr. Downing was not listening. He was in a state of suppressed
excitement and exultation, which made it hard for him to attend to his
colleague's slow utterances. He had a clue! Now that the search had
narrowed itself down to Outwood's house, the rest was comparatively
easy. Perhaps Sergeant Collard had actually recognized the boy. On
reflection he dismissed this as unlikely, for the sergeant would
scarcely have kept a thing like that to himself; but he might very well
have seen more of him than he, Downing, had seen. It was only with an
effort that he could keep himself from rushing to the sergeant then and
there, and leaving the house lunch to look after itself. He resolved to
go the moment that meal was at an end.
Sunday lunch at a public-school house is probably one of the longest
functions in existence. It drags its slow length along like a languid
snake, but it finishes in time. In due course Mr. Downing, after sitting
still and eyeing with acute dislike everybody who asked for a second
helping, found himself at liberty.
Regardless of the claims of digestion, he rushed forth on the trail.
Sergeant Collard lived with his wife and a family of unknown dimensions
in the lodge at the school front gate.
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