Philip was so astounded, and his heart began to beat so fast, at the probable thought that a friend was near at hand, that he could scarcely control himself. But he managed to keep his eyes fixed, apparently on the floor, even while he turned towards the man, who had resumed his seat. His astonishment was greater than ever, when he saw that man, on the pretext of scratching his arm, pull up his sleeve a little way, and disclose—so that Philip alone saw them—certain heavy tattoo marks, such as would scarcely be likely to be on the skin of any one but a sailor. At that moment, wheels were heard at the front of the house, and, the door being unfastened by Toby—who had gone with Betty into the bar—a man came in, and walked straight through to where Tokely was standing. “Couldn’t get a trap, sir, anywheres; but I managed to get a fly—and it’s at the door.” “All right—a fly will do better than anything; we’ll have him safer there than elsewhere.” The man with the melancholy visage suddenly emitted a most extraordinary sound—a sound which, had it moved any part of his face in any way, might have been described as a laugh; but, as his countenance appeared as melancholy after it as before, it did not seem possible that it arose from mirth. “What’s the matter?” asked Tokely, turning towards the man. “Nuffink, guv’nor. It’s rather a nasty corf, that ketches me now and agin,” replied the man. Philip was thrust into the vehicle, together with the man of the melancholy countenance—who stuck close to him, and even held his arm, as though afraid of losing him—and Tokely. When one of the watchers suggested that he might want other assistance, in view of the prisoner proving refractory, Tokely admitted that it might be better for one of them to get on the box with the driver; but, immediately afterwards, thinking apparently that such extra precaution might be put down to cowardice on his part, he countermanded the order; so that the prisoner drove off with only the melancholy-looking man and Tokely inside, and the driver on the box. Philip’s mind was chiefly occupied with wonder as to what was going to happen. That the melancholy man was an emissary of Captain Quist, he did not doubt; at the same time, lest he should alarm the Inspector, and so frustrate any plan which might have been formed for his own rescue, he sat still in a corner of the fly, apparently in a sulky humour, but really alert and watchful.