Twice he had been moved to abandon his awful enterprise--in the train
fleeing from the red-headed Pinner boy; pounding across country
pursued by curious inhabitants of Temple Colney. On these occasions
this miserable George had been minded to cry defeated to the
circumstances that struck at him, to return to Herons' Holt with the
cat whilst yet he might do so without gyves on his wrists.
But thought of his dear Mary hunted thought of this craven ending.
"I'll hang on!" he had cried, thumping the carriage seat: "I'll hang
on! I'll hang on! I'll hang on!" he had thumped into the table upon
his weary return to the inn on the day he had been followed.
He had cause for hope. When, on his second morning at Temple Colney,
the _Daily_ had struck him to white agony by its newest headlines;
cooling, he was able to find comfort in the news it gave to the world.
"On the advice of the eminent detective, Mr. David Brunger, who has
the case in hand, the reward has been raised to 125 pounds."
"Whoop!" cried George, spirits returning.
III.
Three days had passed.
Rain began to fall heavily on this afternoon. Usually--even had there
been floods--George did not return to the inn until seven o'clock. The
less he was near the abode of man the safer was his vile secret. But
to-day, when the clouds told him a steady downpour had set in, he put
out for his lodging before three.
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