You will be brought before the magistrates at Norwich to-morrow."
Duncombe waved his hand towards the sideboard.
"If you gentlemen," he remarked, "would care for a little refreshment
before you start?"
"It is against the rules, sir, thank you," the man answered. "I should
be glad to get away as soon as possible."
Duncombe filled both his pockets with cigars and cigarettes. Then he
turned towards the door.
"I am quite ready," he said.
They followed him out. There was a few minutes' delay waiting for
Duncombe's bag.
"Your address, Sir George?" Groves inquired, as he brought it down.
"A little doubtful," Duncombe answered. "I will wire."
"In front, please, Sir George," Monsieur Louis insisted.
So they drove off, Duncombe in the front seat, the other three behind.
The car gathered speed rapidly. In less than an hour they were half-way
to Norwich. Then suddenly the driver took a sharp corner and turned down
a long desolate lane.
"You're off the main road," Duncombe explained. "You should have kept
straight on for Norwich."
The man took no notice. He even increased his speed. Duncombe was in the
act of turning round when he felt the sudden swish of a wet cloth upon
his face.
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