We left Nettlefold that evening, and went to another village on the other side of Sheldon. This was done to enable Bob to assume a different disguise, in which he was to pay his daily visits to the tree outside the stone walls of Tylney House, which was to serve as a target for Sophy's stones twice a day; and he told me that he had given Sophy explicit instructions how to reach us at our new address. It seems that he had the removal in view when we were at Nettlefold, and had let Sophy into the secret; and I commended and admired his thoughtfulness. The change of quarters safely made, I had nothing to do but to await the course of events. I considered it expedient to keep Bob company, so as to be on the spot in case Sophy should make an unexpected appearance. Bob's proceedings and methods afforded me some amusement. At a quarter to eleven every morning he started for Sheldon, returning at a quarter to two. An hour afterward he started again for the same place, returning at a quarter to six. He was punctuality itself, and his movements resembled those of a well-regulated clock. Every time he returned he said, "Sophy quite safe. Three stones, and a pellet wrapped in white paper. Whistling like a bird. Sophy getting fine markswoman. Two of the stones hit tree. Capital exercise for muscles this stone-throwing. Pity Sophy can't write. She would be able to tell us news." He kept an exact record of all his proceedings, and devoted a separate page, more than one, if necessary, to each entry. "In matters like this," he said, "avoid confusion. Be precise. My diary saves a world of trouble in deciding absolutely what was done at such an hour on such a day." The time, I must confess, hung heavily on my hands, and I would much rather have been an active worker in the task upon which we were engaged. However, I had no choice. I wrote regularly to my people at home and to Emilia, who thus became acquainted with my country address, and it was to Emilia's knowledge of my whereabouts which led to unforeseen diversions in the plans I had so carefully mapped out. CHAPTER XLIX. M. BORDIER JOINS THE HUNT. On the twelfth day I said: "Bob, I think I shall run up to London." "By all means," said Bob, cheerfully, a sign that my society was not indispensable to him, and that he was not wearying of his task. "Should anything occur I will telegraph to you. To which address, though?" "Repeat your telegrams," I said, "to my chambers and my mother's house. I shall be back in two days, and if by that time things are still in the same position I think you should pay a visit to Sophy, and contrive somehow to speak to her. This inaction is intolerable." "You have no patience," said Bob. "The train is laid. What more do you want?" "Movement, Bob, movement." I looked at my watch. "Mustn't lose the train. I'm off."