Dick looked at him. "Well, I suppose that's all over now," he said, "a girl who behaves like that!"
Jim turned away, and said nothing, and by and by they went up to bed.
They drove over to Bathgate the next morning and caught the seven o'clock train to Ganton, where they picked up the London express. Alone in a first-class smoking-carriage they laid their plans. "I have an idea that is worth trying before we do anything else," said Jim. "When we were travelling together that fellow told me of some rooms in Bloomsbury he always went to when he could get them."
"Do you know the address?"
"Yes," said Jim, and gave it. "He said they were the best rooms in London, and made me write down the address. I found it last night."
"Why on earth didn't you say so before?"
"I had forgotten. I didn't suppose I should ever want to take rooms in Bloomsbury."
"It's a chance. We'll go there first. If we draw blank, we will go to his club, and then to the Geographical Society. We'll find him somewhere."
"We can't do anything to him," said Jim.
"I'm not thinking much of him," Dick confessed. "It would be a comfort to bruise him a bit—though I dare say he'd be just as likely to bruise me. He's got an amazing cheek; but, after all, a man plays his own hand. If she had behaved herself properly he couldn't have done anything."