nce which he had until then, in the
most unaccountable manner imaginable, overlooked.

But when he got to the window and looked out, there were no signs of
the object of his search.

He had followed so sharply that Murray could not have had time to get
off.

He looked up and down the road eagerly.

The only thing in sight was a wagon-load of hay drawn by a team of
horses, at whose head plodded a waggoner in a blue cotton blouse, whip
in hand.

"_He, la-bas!_" shouted the coiner from the window.

The waggoner turned and looked eagerly up.

"_Qu'avez-vous?_" demanded the waggoner. "What's the matter?"

"Have you seen anyone jump out of window?" shouted Lenoir.

The waggoner responded tartly, for he fancied that his questioner was
trying to chaff him.

"I've seen no one mad enough for that; in fact I've seen no one madder
than you since I've been in this part of the country."

"_Espece de voyou!_" cried the irritable Lenoir, "_je te ficherais
une danse si j'avais le temps pour t'apprendrs ce que c'est que la
politesse_. I'd dust your jacket for you if I had the time to teach you
politeness."

"You're not likely to have time enough for that, as long as you live,
_espece de pignouf_."

"Idiot!"

"_Imbecile!_"

This interchange of compliments appeared to relieve the belligerent
parties considerably.

Lenoir was obliged to give it up for a bad job.

Suddenly a singular idea shot into his head.

The hay cart!

What if Herbert Murray had got into it unseen and was there now,
without his presence being suspected by the waggoner?

Lenoir reflected for a moment.

Then he darted down the stairs in pursuit of the waggon.

"Hullo, there, driver!" he shouted.

The waggoner looked over his shoulder and recognised Lenoir.

So he whipped up.

The best pace that even a stout team of horses could put on, with a big
load of hay behind them was not to say racehorse speed, so the coiner
soon caught them up.

The waggoner awaited his approach, grasping his whip with a nervous
grip that foreboded mischief.

On came Lenoir.

"I say, my friend," he called out, "I think you have a man concealed in
the cart!"

"_Va-t-en!_--get out!" retorted the waggoner.

"I am serious. Will you oblige me by pulling up and looking?"

"Not exactly."

Lenoir had a very limited stock of patience, and he soon came to the
end of it.

He ran to the leading horse and pulled it up sharply.

The waggoner swore and lashed up.