The man gave him a meaning glance.
"It's a difficult path for a sober man, that, mister," he answered. "And as I said before, he'd had plenty when he left Mrs. Baxter's."
"Where are you going, now?" enquired Wedgwood.
"Further down the valley," said the man.
"What's it like—on the road, out there? Can one get along!"
"Why, if you don't mind a bit of a struggle with it, you can! It's not so bad down here as it is higher up."
Wedgwood made himself ready and succeeded in reaching the highroad. Under his companion's guidance he got to a point where there was a long view down the road towards Netherwell, and there, pausing to rest awhile, he was aware of three dark figures slowly coming along in his direction. He pointed them out to the drover, who, sharper of eye than himself, glanced at them and let out one sharp word.
"Police!"
Wedgwood ploughed his way further along, and eventually made out the figures of the Netherwell Superintendent and two stout constables; far down the road behind them, he saw what he guessed to be a motor-car. Presently the Superintendent recognized him and waved his hand.
