Yes, as I had expected, there was an ordnance map of the Teignmouth
district tacked to the wall; and searching, I quickly found Denbury
marked upon it, standing on the Exmouth road over the High Land of
Orcombe, halfway between that place and Budleigh-Salterton. The
South-Western Railway ran; I saw, from Exmouth to London, by way of
Exeter, and my first impulse was to walk into Exmouth, and take train
thence. The fact that I was probably known at that station occurred to
me, therefore I made up my mind to avoid the terminus and join the train
at Lympston, a small station further towards Exeter.
Taking up my pen I made a rough sketch-plan of my route, which passed
Littleham church, then by the left-hand road struck across country,
crossing the high-road to Exmouth at right angles, continuing through
the village of Withycombe Raleigh, and keeping straight on until it
joined the main road to Exeter. At the commencement of the village of
Lympston it was necessary, I saw, to turn sharp to the left, and at the
end of the road I should find the station, close to the river Exe.
In order to avoid mistaking the road and entering the town of Exmouth, I
made a full and careful plan, which when completed I placed in my
pocket. The distance, I calculated roughly, was between five and six
miles over a road rather difficult to find without a map.
Among the books on the table I found a Bradshaw, with the page of local
trains turned down, and from it learned that a train with connexion from
London stopped at Lympston at 7:55 p.m., while the train in connexion
with the up-mail from Exeter stopped there at 8:20. The latter I
decided upon taking.
The fact that I had expressed my desire to sleep would prevent Gill
coming to call me at the dinner hour, and by the time I was missed I
should be well on my way to London.
The question of money occurred to me. I had noticed some loose gold and
a couple of five-pound notes in one of the drawers which Gedge had
opened, and having a duplicate set of keys in my pocket, I transferred
the whole--a little under fourteen pounds--to my pocket.
Then I took out my cheque-book. It was too large to be carried in my
pocket, therefore I tore out a couple of dozen or so, folded them, and
placed them in an envelope.
I recognised that I could draw money with them, yet the bank need not
know my whereabouts. If these people, who would, I suppose, call
themselves "my friends," made active search to find the fugitive
"madman," they would certainly obtain no clue from my bankers.
In the same drawer as the cheque-book I found a black leather portfolio,
securely locked.
The latter fact impressed me. Everything else was open to my secretary,
who possessed keys, both to writing-table and safe. But this was
locked, apparently because therein were contained certain private papers
that I had wished to keep from his eyes.
No man, whoever he may be, reposes absolute confidence in his secretary.
Every one has some personal matter, the existence of which he desires
to preserve secret to himself alone.
I drew forth the locked portfolio, and placed it upon the blotting-pad
before me. It was an expansive wallet, of a kind such as I remembered
having seen carried by bankers' clerks in the City from bank to bank,
attached by chains to the belts around their waists.
Surely upon my ring I must possess a key to it. I looked, and found a
small brass key.
It fitted, and a moment later I had unlocked the wallet and spread my
own private papers before me.
What secrets of my lost life, I wondered, might not those carefully
preserved letters and documents contain?
In eager, anxious wonder I turned them over.
Next instant a cry of dismay broke involuntarily from my lips, as within
trembling fingers I held one of those papers--a letter addressed to me.
I could scarce believe my own eyes as I read it. Yet the truth was
plain--hideously plain.