‘To the post-office, sir,’ said the boy.
‘So am I. Now would you like to earn a couple of sovereigns easily?’ Simon Lock inquired.
‘Yes, sir,’ said the boy, and added, ‘if it’s all square. Sovereigns ain’t flying about, you know.’
‘It’s all square. You won’t do any harm to anyone by earning it. All I want you to do is to go into the post-office and say that on the last telegram sent to your firm the name of the office of despatch isn’t stamped clearly. Ask them to refer and tell you what it is. They know you, I suppose?’
‘Oh yes, sir.’
‘Well, run along.’
The boy, dazzled by the glitter of sovereigns, went. Simon Lock waited for him outside the post-office.
‘What’s the answer?’ he asked when the boy came out.
‘They said I ought to have brought the form with me,’ said the boy, ‘but I talked to ’em like a father. I reckon I know how to manage them girls.’
‘And what’s the name of the place?’