"I'm glad of that too." Bowdon rose and flung the window open more widely. "Tell you what, Ashley," he said, "it seems to me the room stinks."
Ashley made no answer; he smiled, but not in mirth.
There was a knock at the door. Ashley went to open it. Jack Fenning was there.
"I beg pardon, Mr. Mead," he said, "but if you'll give me a sheet of paper, I'll write for the passage; and I may have to pay something extra for going back by this boat."
"I'll look after that. Here's paper." And he hustled Mr. Fenning out.
At the moment a tread became audible on the stairs. Ashley stood where he was. "Somebody coming," he said to Bowdon. "Hope he won't catch Fenning!" Then came voices. The two men listened; the door was good thick oak, and the voices were dim. "I know that voice," said Ashley. "Who the deuce is it?"
"It's a man, anyhow," said Bowdon. He had entertained a wild fear that the visitor might be Ora herself; the scheme of things had a way of playing tricks such as that.
"Well, good-bye," said the voice, not Jack Fenning's. They heard Jack going upstairs; at the same moment came the shutting of his door and a knock at Ashley's. With a glance at Bowdon, warning him to be discreet, Ashley opened it. Mr. Sidney Hazlewood stood on the threshold.
"Glad to find you in," he said, entering. "How are you, Bowdon? I want your advice, Mead. Somebody's stealing a piece of mine and I thought you'd be able to tell me what to do. You're a lawyer, you see."