There are no words for the thoughts of the baffled adventurer as he
locked the door and walked around the farm to the waiting motor. His
only word on the way was to Charles, and it calmed, for an instant, even
that restless spirit.
"London," he said to his chauffeur. "My friend isn't coming," and he and
Charles tumbled into the car together.
A line of faces drawn up against a long fence watched his departure with
mild curiosity. Twenty or thirty calves and their rustic attendant saw
him go. The chauffeur looked again at the house's blank windows and
echoed the landlord's words.
"Rum go!" he said to himself. "Most extraordinary rum go."