“Of course I am.”
“Better give me your address, then, in case anything turns up.”
“If you were as sharp as you pass for you would know my address—Royal Hotel, Bath, to be sure.”
He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes with his carpet-bag and wraps.
“Wouldn't to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose chase?” asked Wheeler.
“No,” said Richard. “I'm not such a fool. Catch me losing twelve hours. In that twelve hours they would shift their quarters. It is always so when a fool delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath.”
The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he rattled off to the railway.
He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 A.M., took a warm bath instead of bed, and then ordered breakfast; asked to see the visitors' book, and wrote a false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, saw Lady Bassett's name.
But he could not find Mr. Angelo's name in the book.
He got hold of Boots, and feed him liberally, then asked him if there was a handsome young parson there—very dark.