He
caught up with Desmond as the latter reached the bridge.
"Desmond!" he said, pleadingly.
"Oh, go to hell!" retorted the other savagely, whereupon Francis
turned his back on him and walked back to the inn.
A car had stopped by the bridge and a man was getting out of it
as Desmond moved towards the fen. The next moment he found
himself face to face with the Chief.
The Chief's face was hard and cold and stern. There was a furrow
between his eyes which deepened when he recognized Desmond.
"Well," he said curtly, "and where is my secretary?"
"I don't know," Desmond faltered.
"Why are you here, then?" came back in that hard, uncompromising
voice.
Desmond was about to reply; but the other checked him.
"I know all you have to say," he resumed, "but no excuse you can
offer can explain away the disappearance of Miss Mackwayte. Your
orders were formal to remain at home. You saw fit to disobey them
and thereby, maybe, sent Miss Mackwayte to her death. No!" he
added, seeing that Desmond was about to expostulate, "I want to
hear nothing from you. However obscure the circumstances of Miss
Mackwayte's disappearance may be, one fact is perfectly clear,
namely, that she went to the Mill House, as she was ordered and
you were not there.
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