“All right. I’ll tell them to inspan the dogcart. That’ll get us there in no time.”
There was something of an outcry on the part of their juniors at this sudden move.
“We’ll be back again before you have time to turn round, Sunbeam,” said Haldane. “Keep that fellow Gerard out of mischief—take him to try for a trout, or something. So long!”
Haldane liked things done smartly, and generally had them so done, consequently the dogcart was already at the door. On the road, for they had purposely not taken a groom, Wagram told him of the finding of the tin case on board the Red Derelict, and how its contents bore largely on his own affairs and on those of the man they were about to visit. “You can’t call to mind this man’s name or identity in the course of your former South African wanderings?” he concluded.
“No; I’ll be hanged if I can. You see, the name was bound to have stuck, unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he ran under some other name. That’s not such an uncommon thing in some parts of the round world.”
“Ah! Well, it’s possible he did. That’s just the thought that struck me.”
“If you can contrive me a glimpse of the joker I’ll soon let you know for cert. I never forget a face.”
“That might be done. We might go into the room together—then, if he’s the wrong man, you could apologise and clear.”