Now let us return to the three gentlemen who had taken it upon themselves to rescue Jessie—Widgery, Dangle, and young Phipps—and to the distressed Mrs. Milton, better known to the literary world as “Thomas Plantagenet.”
We left them at Midhurst station, waiting for the train to Chichester.
Mrs. Milton was doing her best to appear brave in the face of what everyone considered a terrible tragedy.
The three men competed with one another in showing her sympathy.
Widgery, the large and solidly built bank manager, kept tugging at his moustache and gazing at her with his big brown eyes.
Dangle, who was much thinner, also tugged at his moustache, although his grey eyes were not nearly as naturally sympathetic.
Poor Phipps had no moustache to work with, so he folded his arms and tried to sound cheerful while talking about the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway.
He hoped the railway would somehow distract her from her troubles.
“There’s really nothing we can do until we reach Chichester,” Dangle said.
“Nothing at all,” Widgery agreed.
Then he leaned toward Mrs. Milton.
“You really ate almost nothing, you know.”
“The trains are always late on this line,” Phipps added.
The three men were very different.
Dangle was a subeditor and book reviewer. He took great pride in being Mrs. Milton’s intellectual companion.
Widgery managed a bank and was an enthusiastic golfer. Whenever he thought about his relationship with Mrs. Milton, he imagined himself as some noble and faithful protector.
His full name was Douglas-Douglas Widgery.
Phipps was still a medical student. He was young, inexperienced, and completely devoted to Mrs. Milton. In his own mind, he was already a man of the world laying his heart at her feet.
Mrs. Milton was kind to all three of them and always insisted that they remain friends.
That was not easy.
Dangle thought Widgery was a crude Philistine who admired Mrs. Milton’s books without really understanding them.
Widgery thought Dangle had no real human feeling and would say almost anything if it sounded clever.
Both men thought Phipps was an inexperienced boy.
Phipps, meanwhile, considered both of them complete idiots.
On the train to Chichester, Dangle began explaining his plan.
“They could easily have reached Chichester in time for lunch,” he said. “So they may have arrived after that.”
“Once we get there, Phipps should ask at the main hotels whether anyone matching Jessie’s description stayed there.”
“I’ll make the inquiries,” Phipps said. “Willingly.”
He paused.
“I suppose you and Widgery will just stand around—”
He noticed the pain on Mrs. Milton’s face and immediately stopped.
“No,” Dangle said. “We are not going to stand around.”
“There are two places tourists are especially likely to visit in Chichester—the cathedral and the museum. I’ll investigate the cathedral.”
“The museum can be mine,” Widgery said.
“And I have one or two ideas of my own,” he added.
They first took Mrs. Milton to the Red Hotel and settled her there with some tea.
“You are all so kind to me,” she said.
They immediately assured her that it was nothing.
Then they went off in different directions to begin their search.
By six o’clock they were back.
None of them had found anything useful.
Widgery returned with Dangle.
Phipps arrived a little later.
“Are you absolutely certain there’s no mistake in your reasoning?” Widgery asked Dangle.
“Absolutely certain,” Dangle replied.
“Of course, the fact that they left Midhurst along the Chichester road doesn’t necessarily mean they came here.”
“My dear fellow, of course it does. I have considered the crossroads.”
Dangle sounded offended.
“There simply aren’t any roads here that would give them a better reason to turn away.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Widgery said.
He looked toward the window.
“Here comes Phipps.”
Mrs. Milton immediately stood up.
“Is he hurrying?”
“Does he look as though he has found something?”
“No news,” Phipps said as he entered.
“None?” Dangle asked.
“Well, not exactly.”
Phipps dropped into a chair.
“One man told me a strange story. Yesterday, around the same time, someone was asking the same question we’ve been asking.”
“What question?” Mrs. Milton asked quietly.
“Whether anyone had seen a young lady in grey cycling clothes.”
Dangle immediately became interested.
“Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“A man was already looking for her yesterday?”
“What does that mean?” Dangle asked.
“Heaven knows,” Phipps said tiredly. “You’re the clever one. You work it out.”
“What sort of man was he?”
“How should I know? The fellow only said he was wearing cycling clothes.”
“But his height? His appearance?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask?”
Dangle stared at him.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Go and ask him yourself,” Phipps replied. “He works at the White Hart. He’s an ostler. Short, thickset, red-faced, and rather unpleasant. He was leaning against the stable door and smelled strongly of whiskey.”
“Of course,” Dangle said.
He picked up his straw hat.
“I should have thought of that.”
Phipps opened his mouth to answer, but Mrs. Milton interrupted gently.
“You must be tired, Mr. Phipps.”
She smiled at him.
“Let me order some tea.”
Phipps suddenly realized that he had been rather less heroic than usual.
“I was annoyed because he kept pushing me to hurry,” he admitted.
Then he looked at Mrs. Milton.
“But I would do a hundred times as much if it brought me closer to Jessie.”
He hesitated.
“I wouldn’t mind some tea.”
Widgery shook his head.
“I don’t want to give you false hope, Mrs. Milton, but I’m beginning to think they never came to Chichester.”
“Dangle is clever, of course, but his theories can sometimes be—”
“Tch!”
Phipps suddenly slapped his forehead.
“What is it?” Mrs. Milton asked.
“I forgot something.”
He looked annoyed with himself.
“I went to every other hotel in town, but I never thought to ask here.”
A knock came at the door.
The waiter entered with the tea.
“Tea, madam?”
“Yes, please.”
Phipps stopped him.
“Wait. Was there a young lady here yesterday? A young woman in cycling clothes?”
The waiter nodded.
“Yes, sir. She stayed here last night.”
Phipps stared at him.
“With her brother, sir.”
“Her brother?” Mrs. Milton whispered.
“Thank God!”
The waiter glanced at her and immediately understood that this was important.
“Yes, sir. A young gentleman. Very generous with his money. He gave the name Beaumont.”
He began describing the couple.
Widgery questioned him closely about where they had planned to go.
“Havant,” Phipps said suddenly. “Where is Havant?”
Mrs. Milton turned to the waiter.
“Was the young man tall?”
She was clearly trying to identify him.
“Distinguished-looking? A long, fair moustache? Did he speak slowly?”
The waiter thought for a moment.
“Not really, madam. His moustache was rather short. He looked quite young.”
“About thirty-five?”
“No, madam. More like twenty-five.”
Mrs. Milton’s face changed.
“Oh dear.”
She reached for her smelling salts.
“It must have been her younger brother.”
Widgery quickly stepped in.
“That will be enough. Thank you.”
He wanted to spare her any more embarrassment.
The waiter turned toward the door.
At that exact moment, Dangle came rushing into the room.
He was breathing heavily and holding a handkerchief against one eye.
“What happened to you?” Phipps asked.
“Nothing serious,” Dangle said.
He sounded offended.
“I had a disagreement with that drunken ostler.”
“The man thought I was part of some conspiracy to annoy him. He even suggested that the Young Lady in Grey was probably imaginary.”
He looked around.
“You’ve found something, I see.”
“Did he hit you?” Widgery asked.
Mrs. Milton hurried toward Dangle.
“Can I do anything?”
Dangle shook his head heroically.
“Just tell me what you’ve discovered.”
Phipps explained.
Widgery kept interrupting with comments and questions.
The waiter brought in the tea.
“A timetable,” Dangle said immediately. “For Havant.”
Mrs. Milton poured the tea.
Phipps and Dangle barely had time to drink it.
Then they rushed out.
They caught the train by seconds.
Their next destination was Havant.
Dangle was delighted.
His prediction had been correct.
He studied the map carefully.
Beyond Havant, the road toward Southampton had the sea on the left and a long hill on the right.
That gave him an idea.
“We can cut them off,” he announced.
He explained his plan.
“Mrs. Milton and I will go on to Fareham.”
“Widgery and Phipps will get off at Cosham and Porchester. If they find nothing, they can take the next train.”
“If they do find something, they can send a telegram to Fareham.”
Dangle was extremely pleased with himself.
To him, the plan was almost worthy of Napoleon.
The only thing spoiling his satisfaction was the handkerchief covering his injured eye.
The boys in Havant had been laughing at him all afternoon.
But his plan worked perfectly.
The fugitives had escaped by only a few minutes.
When Mrs. Milton and Dangle came around the corner from the station, they saw them outside the Golden Anchor in Fareham, preparing to get back on their bicycles.
“It’s her!” Mrs. Milton cried.
She nearly screamed.
“Quiet!”
Dangle grabbed her arm.
“They mustn’t see us.”
He quickly removed the handkerchief from his eye.
The piece of raw meat he had been using as a compress was still stuck there, giving him an extraordinary appearance.
“Stay calm,” he whispered.
“If they see us, they’ll escape.”
“Were there any carriages at the station?”
The young couple mounted their bicycles and disappeared around the corner toward Winchester.
Mrs. Milton nearly fainted.
“Save her,” she whispered.
“A carriage,” Dangle said.
“Wait here.”
He rushed into the Golden Anchor.
Ten minutes later, he emerged with a hired dogcart.
The meat had fallen away from his eye, revealing a swollen, bruised face.
“I’ll take you back to the station,” he told Mrs. Milton.
“Then come straight back here and follow them.”
“You’ll meet Widgery and Phipps and tell them I’ve gone after the fugitives.”
Mrs. Milton was taken back to the railway station.
She was left sitting on a hard wooden bench in the afternoon sun.
She was exhausted, dusty, hungry, and deeply upset.
Dangle was certainly energetic.
But if she wanted someone calm and comforting, she would much rather have had Widgery.
Meanwhile, Dangle was driving a large black horse north-west toward Winchester.
The horse was enormous.
The dogcart was enormous too.
And Dangle, a small and refined-looking man with a long neck, looked rather ridiculous sitting behind such a huge animal.
He wore a dark grey suit and a deerstalker hat.
The horse’s hooves struck the road in a steady rhythm.
Clop, clop, clop, clop.
Near the church, the horse suddenly shied at a baby carriage.
The Rescue Expedition soon became rather chaotic.
Widgery was furious when he discovered that Mrs. Milton had been left alone at the Fareham station.
The whole day had begun to irritate him, and now he finally had someone to blame.
“Dangle is completely impossible,” he complained.
“He rushes off without thinking.”
“And now we’re supposed to sit here waiting for him.”
“He’s so obsessed with doing everything himself.”
“He always has to be the one in charge.”
“He means well,” Mrs. Milton said gently.
She touched his arm.
“He’s only trying to help me.”
“He doesn’t need to stop me from helping you,” Widgery muttered.
Then he looked at her.
“You’re tired.”
“I can keep going,” she said brightly.
“As long as we find Jessie.”
Widgery pulled a map from his pocket.
“While I was waiting in Cosham, I bought this.”
He opened it.
“Look. This is the road leaving Fareham.”
“They must be heading for Winchester.”
“Why?” Mrs. Milton asked.
“Because it makes sense.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday. Winchester is a cathedral city. And there isn’t much else of importance along this road.”
“But what about Mr. Dangle?”
“He’ll keep driving until something happens to him.”
Widgery shook his head.
“I’ve seen him drive before. There’s no chance that a hired dogcart will catch bicycles on a cool evening.”
“Trust me, Mrs. Milton.”
She looked up at him.
“I’m in your hands.”
For a moment, Widgery forgot how angry he was.
Phipps had been standing nearby, leaning on his walking stick and nervously touching his collar.
He thought Widgery’s plan sounded sensible.
“We could leave a message at the place where Dangle hired the dogcart,” he suggested.
All three immediately agreed.
But they never made it past Botley.
As their train entered the station, they heard a tremendous rumbling.
There was shouting somewhere above them.
The guard stared in astonishment.
Phipps stuck his head out of the window.
“There he goes!”
He jumped out of the carriage.
Mrs. Milton followed.
For a moment she could see everything clearly.
Botley station was below the road, in a deep cutting.
Above them, against the yellow and pink sunset, a huge black shape came racing across the road.
It was the horse.
Behind it came the dogcart.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos was Dangle.
Then he seemed to leap into the air.
There was a terrible crash.
Everyone froze.
Two dark shapes—the horse’s heads and the people running toward the wreck—came into view.
“You’d better get out,” Phipps told Mrs. Milton.
She stood frozen in the doorway.
Then all three hurried up the steps.
They found Dangle standing beside the road without his hat.
His hands were badly scraped.
A small boy was already brushing the dirt from them as if he were a professional nurse.
Farther down the road, several villagers were holding the huge black horse.
The animal looked completely calm and strangely proud of itself.
But Dangle was the important one.
“Are you hurt?” Phipps asked.
“Mr. Dangle!” Mrs. Milton cried.
“Hullo,” Dangle said casually.
He seemed not to be surprised to see them.
“I’m glad you came. I may need you.”
He looked down at himself.
“I’m in a bit of a mess.”
“But I caught them.”
Widgery stared at him.
“You caught them?”
“Where are they?”
“Up the road,” Dangle said, pointing behind him.
“About a mile away.”
“I had to leave them there.”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Milton said.
Her face filled with anxious hope.
“Did you find Jessie?”
“I did.”
Dangle looked at his hands.
“I just wish I could get all this gravel out of them.”
Then he explained what had happened.
“I came around a corner and suddenly saw them.”
“The horse saw the bicycles and panicked.”
“They were sitting beside the road, looking at flowers.”
“I shouted, ‘Jessie Milton! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!’”
“But then the horse bolted.”
“I couldn’t turn around. I was too busy trying not to be thrown out.”
“I shouted back, ‘Go back to your friends! Everything will be forgiven!’”
“And then the horse carried me away.”
“I don’t know whether they even heard me.”
“Take me to her,” Mrs. Milton said urgently.
Widgery immediately stepped forward.
“Of course.”
“How far away are they?”
“About a mile and a half. Maybe two.”
“I was determined to find them.”
Dangle held up his scraped hands.
“But look at this.”
Then he turned to Phipps.
“Where can I wash all this gravel out?”
“And could you take a look at my knee?”
“There’s the station,” Phipps said.
Dangle took a step.
His injured knee immediately became obvious.
“Take my arm,” Phipps said.
Widgery turned to two boys standing nearby.
“Where can we hire a carriage?”
The boys looked at each other.
“There must be something available.”
“Not a cab,” Widgery muttered.
“Not even a cart.”
He looked around desperately.
“We need a horse. A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”
“There’s a horse,” one of the boys said.
“I mean a carriage.”
“Can we hire a cart anywhere?”
Mrs. Milton joined in.
“Anything at all?”
The older boy shook his head.
“John Ooker’s got a cart, but nobody can hire it.”
“My father’s got one too, but his leg’s broken.”
Widgery stared at him.
“So there’s not even a cart.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
Mrs. Milton suddenly thought of Dangle.
For all his recklessness, he had certainly proved that he could find a way out of difficult situations.
“Perhaps,” she said timidly, “you should ask Mr. Dangle.”
That was enough to destroy what remained of Widgery’s good mood.
“Damn Dangle!”
His voice became sharp.
“Hasn’t he caused enough trouble already?”
“He had to rush after them in that ridiculous carriage just to tell them we were coming.”
“And now you want me to ask him for help?”
Mrs. Milton’s blue eyes filled with tears.
Widgery saw them and immediately stopped.
“I’ll ask him,” he said shortly.
“If that’s what you want.”
He turned and strode toward the station.
Mrs. Milton remained standing in the road.
The two boys stared at her curiously.
She was exhausted, hungry, dusty, and completely disheveled.
And one thought kept running through her mind:
Where were all the brave knights of old when you actually needed one?