"You can't dodge those fellows so easily," said George, doubtfully, as the cab went off at a walking pace. "They'll find out we've come here and follow us."
"It's all right," said Cattermole. "I took tickets to London, and broke the journey here because you were too ill to go further. They won't find you."
After a slow drive up an interminably long hill the cab stopped before an inn of countrified appearance where the two men met with a cordial welcome.
"My friend is an invalid," Cattermole explained, "and we've come here because I'm told it's quiet."
The landlord informed him that it was the quietest spot in the neighbourhood. It was especially fortunate too that there were no other visitors.
"I shall have to leave you for a bit now," said Cattermole, when they had done justice to a good hot meal and were safely out of earshot in the long garden. "Shop'll be going to the dogs if I don't get back to-day."
"How long are you going for?" asked George, anxiously.
"Not long," said Cattermole; "back to-morrow night. In the mean time you can think the business over."
Before departing he called the waitress aside and gave her explicit directions about taking care of the invalid, emphasizing his remarks with a gift of five shillings.
George sat in the garden and thought the matter over till the dutiful waitress led him in to tea. Then he sat in the deserted smoking-room and thought it over again till he was led away to dinner, after which he thought it over till bed-time. Secure in his bedroom, with the blinds drawn, he lit a cigar and did the rest of his thinking with his eyes open.