“Should you be.”
“Well, what then?”
“You know where to apply—to me.”
“A letter addressed to Mr. Gatliffe, London, will reach you I suppose?” returned our hero with a laugh.
“I will give you my address. I am still at the same place—Wood Green. Come and dine with me some Sunday.”
“I can’t. I return to Sheffield to-morrow, but when next in London will do so. Rest assured I shall keep the address.”
And with this promise the two friends parted.
“Ah!” mused Peace, as he took his way to the coffee shop where he had taken up his quarters for a night or two, “he hasn’t heard of the Crookhsemoor House business, and doesn’t know that he has been hobnobbing with a convict just discharged from Dartmoor. So much the better. After all, Tom’s a good fellow, and to say the truth he appears to have lost a good deal of his upstart ways. I s’pose it’s trouble as has done that for him.”