"Glad to hear it. Act on it."
"You wouldn't mind assisting me?"
"Anything in my power."
"You are a trump. But you have been making personal inquiries in the village. If you went down again--supposing you consent to do what I want--you would be recognized."
"Not at all. Disguise. I'd take Old Nick himself in, much less Dr. Peterssen and a parcel of clod-hoppers." (This was a long sentence for Bob.) "Try me."
"Supposing I could find such a friendly patient--a smart little girl who knows her way about--would you go down and arrange that she should be taken care of in Tylney House?"
"Delighted."
"You've not heard of any cruelties being practised there?"
"No. Besides, I should be on the spot. Could arrange a system of signals. Piece of white paper, with a stone in it, thrown over wall. All's well. Piece of blue paper, with a stone in it, thrown over wall. Getting frightened. Come and take me away. No paper at all thrown over wall. Ring the bell and demand to see friendly patient."
"Bob, you're a genius."