"You share with us, my dear," was his ready response. "All we have is yours. Mother, it is hardly likely he can be removed for a day or two. You will stay with Florence to-night."
"And every night," said Aunt Rob, "till we get her home. I don't let her out of my sight. Dick, what are you looking so glum for?"
"Am I looking glum?" he said, striving to speak cheerfully. "I was not aware of it."
"Dear Dick!" said Florence, stepping to his side. "How can we thank you?"
"That will do, that will do," he said. "As if anybody in my place wouldn't have done the same! I must be off now--a thousand things to attend to."
"Pop into the office between eight and nine for a chat," said Uncle Rob.
"All right, uncle, I'll be there," answered Dick, waving goodbye to the happy group.
He was glad to get away, to think of the work before him. The search in Samuel Boyd's house for the body of Abel Death must be made to-night; it might be the last opportunity he would have to do so secretly.
"I must dodge the police, and I must get in early," he thought. "At nine I will have a chat with Uncle Rob, at ten I'll be in Catchpole Square. My mind is in a state of muddle. Let me see how the case stands in respect of dates and the consecutive order of events. To save confusion I will jot them down."
Taking a small memorandum book from his pocket he halted at a street corner, and made the following entries: