Jack led the way. "Halloa, Dot!" he said. "Have you seen anything of our
man? He's broken cover in this direction in spite of us. You haven't shot
him by any chance, I suppose?"

Dot looked from him to the man behind him.

"Inspector Hill," said Jack. "Eh? What's the matter?"

"Nothing--nothing!" said Dot. Yet she had gone back a step as if she had
been struck. She held out her hand to the policeman. "How do you do?
I--I--am very pleased to meet you. So you haven't caught him after all?"

Inspector Hill was looking at her keenly. He wore a sardonic expression,
as of one who knows that he has been outwitted. "I have not, madam,"
he said. "Neither, I presume, have you?"

She shook her head, looking him straight in the face. "No, I haven't.
I am afraid I have been asleep. Are you sure he passed this way?"

Her eyes were clear and candid as the eyes of a boy. Inspector Hill
turned his own away.

"Yes. Quite sure," he said, with brevity.

"He's a slippery devil," declared Jack Burton. "Sit down, man! My sister
is a 'new chum.' She probably wouldn't have known him from a man on the
farm if she'd seen him. In fact, if you'd turned up here by yourself she
might have shot you--on suspicion."

"I probably should," said Dot, coldly.