"That your opinion, too, Mr. Craye?" he asked.
"It is!" said I. "My absolute opinion."
He shook hands with us, and got into his saddle. He bent down for a last word.
"Never been so curious about a matter in my life!" he said. "But it must end!"
Then he rode off across the moor and disappeared. And next morning Madrasia and I journeyed to Newcastle, she carrying the copper box, neatly tied up and sealed. Our train ran in at the very time at which we were to meet Parslewe. But we saw no Parslewe. We stood staring around us until a man in the livery of a hall-porter came along, eyeing us closely, and stopped at my side.
"Beg pardon, sir—Mr. Craye, sir? Just so, sir—Mr. Parslewe's compliments, and will you and the young lady join him at lunch in the hotel? This way, sir."
