Bogue hadn't time to make out the design, but his recollection is
there were several small ones--ships, foul-anchors, and the like--
besides a large one that seemed to be some sort of a map."
"You haven't done so badly, Jack," Miss Belcher allowed. "If the
man hasn't given us the slip at Plymouth you have struck a
first-class scent. Only I doubt 'tis a cold one. You sent word at
once?"
"By express rider, and with orders to leave a description of the man
at all the ferries. But there's more to come. The man, that had
seemed at first in a desperate hurry, was no sooner in Bogue's
clothes than he took a seat, made Bogue fetch another glass of grog
and drink it with him, and asked him a score of questions about the
best road eastward. It struck Bogue that, for a man whose home was
Saltash, he knew very little about his native county. All this while
he appeared to have forgotten his hurry, and Bogue was thinking to
make him an excuse to go off and attend to other customers, when of a
sudden he ups and shakes hands, says good night, and marches out of
the house. Bogue told me all this in the very room where it
happened. It opens out on the passage leading from the taproom to
the front door. I asked Bogue if he could remember at what time
Coffin left the house, and by what door; also, if the prisoner-fellow
heard him leave; but at first he couldn't tell me anything for
certain except that Coffin went out by the front door--he remembered
hearing him go tapping down the passage.
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