"You've been across, of course? No? Well, really now, that's quite too bad, don't you know! But I say, whenever you come, you must look me up, if you don't mind, at Tarlingham Towers. I've a bit of a place down in the Surrey country; I've a beast there that's just about up to your weight. Have you ever ridden to the hounds?"
The reporter was delighted; he felt that a distinction had been conferred upon him. Wishing to show his appreciation, he asked Dean, or Jordan, as he was to him, if he might print an interview. Dean graciously consented, and the reporter left for his office, glad of a story with which to justify to his city editor, at least partly, his wasted evening.
When Dean had gone, taking his three companions with him, Gibbs and Mason sat for a long while in the back room.
"So that's Eddie Dean!" said Mason.
"Yes," said Gibbs, "that's him."
"And what's his graft?"
"Oh," said Gibbs, "the send, the bull con, the big mitt, the cross lift--anything in that line."
"And those two other guys with him?" asked Mason.
"That little one is Willie the Rat, the other is Gaffney."
"Sure-thing men, too?"