Now tell me this, what
direction did he start in?"
"How would I know? As soon as ever I had the sandwiches made for him I
went to feed the fowl, and by reason of the way the white hen has of
rambling and her chickens along with her--"
"Thanks," said Meldon. "If it wasn't that I have to find Mr. Simpkins
at once, I'd stay and hear about the white hen. But under the
circumstances I can't. Good-bye."
He rode down to the hotel and found Doyle, who was sitting on the
window-sill of the commercial room reading a newspaper.
"Doyle," he said, "where's Simpkins gone?"
"I don't know," said Doyle, "that he's gone anywhere; though I'd be
glad if he did, and that to a good, far-off kind of a place."
"Did you see him this morning?"
"I did. I seen him. It might have been half-past ten or maybe eleven
o'clock--"
"On his bicycle?"
"He was on his bicycle."
"Where was he going?"
"I don't know where he was going, for I didn't ask, not caring; unless
it might be to some place that he wouldn't get back from too easy."
"It is of the utmost possible importance," said Meldon, "that I should
know where he's gone. I am pledged to produce him at Ballymoy House
this afternoon.
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