“Why don’t you try the casual ward at the workhouse?”
“They’re full up, sir.”
“That’s a lie,” said the officer. “Now understand, if I see you again I’ll arrest you!”
Muttering something to himself, the squalid figure moved on toward the Arundel Road, his shoulders hunched, his hands hidden in the depths of his pockets.
Out of sight of the policeman, he turned abruptly to the right and accelerated his pace. He was making for Jack Knebworth’s house. The director heard the knock, opened the door and stood aghast at the unexpected character of the caller.
“What do you want, bo’?” he asked.
“Mr. Brixan come back?”
“No, he hasn’t come back. You’d better give me that letter. I’ll get in touch with him by ’phone.”
The tramp grinned and shook his head.
“No, you don’t. I want to see Brixan.”