“The rain had given way to a misty overcast that did nothing to lighten his spirits. He left the spinney but Lord Kincraig was nowhere in sight. About two hundred yards to the south another copse of trees bordered a stream and he started in that direction. As he drew nearer, he heard men’s voices. His lordship, it would seem, had met someone. A comrade in crime, perhaps? He swore under his breath, and moved cautiously into the trees. There were two of them and they were conversing in English, bu...t so softly that he could detect only a word or two: “… damned chancy, but worth … if we can bring it off!” That was Kincraig, and speaking with an irked briskness quite unlike his often vague ramblings. His companion muttered, “… hot after you … I’ll try to find out where … Don’t like … no choice … con Dios!” It was the farewell, and in Spanish. Vespa sprinted forward, his steps muffled by the pound of hooves, and was in time to catch a glimpse of a fast vanishing rider.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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