Read Online Trouble on the Thames by Victor Bridges - Free Book Online

leave the shed, but, true to the proverbial honour that prevails among wrongdoers, the man in question stoutly denies having observed any such dramatic incident. Although one or two local farm hands were in the neighbourhood at the time, the fact that there was a considerable amount of mist would explain why none of them has been able to add anything further to what the authorities already know.
    As some ten minutes appear to have elapsed before the alarm was raised, Wilson must have had time to reach the shelter of one of the large straggling plantations that adjoin the prison. Since then nothing has been seen or heard of him. An intensive search of the surrounding moor, however, is now in progress, and with all the roads watched and every car and vehicle being held up for examination, it is not considered likely that the fugitive’s spell of liberty will be of very long duration. Contrary to the popular belief, founded upon sensational films and novels, every prisoner who has so far escaped from Dartmoor has been recaptured. In the majority of cases men give themselves up voluntarily on account of the hunger and exposure to which they are subjected.
    ***
    For several seconds after he had finished reading Craig sat staring straight in front of him, his underlip stuck out, his thick eyebrows drawn together in a reflective scowl. Then, getting up abruptly and moving back to the desk, he pressed one of the three buttons which stood in a row beside the large writing-pad. It was apparent that his interest in the day’s racing had been temporarily overshadowed.
    After a short interval the door opened quietly, admitting a dark-haired, sleek-looking man of about forty with an oddly expressionless face. He was wearing a well-cut morning suit and had a red carnation in the buttonhole of his coat.
    â€œDidn’t know you were back,” he observed, glancing at the opened letters. “I was wondering whether you’d forgotten that appointment with Sutton.”
    â€œNo, I remembered it all right.” Craig paused. “Seen the evening paper?”
    â€œNot yet. Anything special in it?”
    â€œHave a look at this story on the front page.”
    Mr. Paul Casey, the highly efficient manager of the Mayflower, took the Star which his employer held out to him. The next moment a low, surprised whistle escaped from his lips.
    â€œWilson, by all the saints! Done a bunk from Dartmoor, has he? Well, damn my soul, I’d—”
    â€œRead it,” said Craig curtly.
    Complying with the order, Casey perched himself on the arm of a chair and ran his eye swiftly down the column. That the news had considerably startled him had been obvious from his first reaction, but now that he had had time to recover, his face betrayed no further sign of emotion. Not until he had reached the end did he offer anything in the way of a comment.
    â€œGot more guts than I gave him credit for,” he remarked, looking up from the paper. “Never be certain with fellows like that. What do you imagine his game is?”
    â€œI should say that he had only one idea in his head.” Craig spoke with complete calmness. “That’s to come up here and stick a knife into me. It’s what he threatened to do the last time I had the pleasure of seeing him.”
    Casey raised his eyebrows. “Mean that seriously?”
    The other nodded. “I know his type. They’re easy enough game, but once they’ve got hold of the notion that somebody’s been leading them up the garden they’re apt to go clean off the rails. Wouldn’t mind betting that for the last two years Wilson has been sitting in his cell thinking of nothing else but how to get level with us. Became a sort of fixed idea, as the French call it. Otherwise he’d never have been such an idiot as to break out of prison.”
    â€œShouldn’t wonder if you’re right: you generally are. All the same, I don’t think we need lose