Mr. Lock had not visited him once during those two days, and the only news he had derived of that gentleman was from Mr. Tridge, who, paying a brief visit, let fall the information that Mr. Lock and Miss Radling had been observed together at a matinée performance at the local kinema theatre.
Mrs. Dobb had just locked the little shop for the night, and Mr. Dobb, upstairs, was feeling a consequent measure of relief, when the private bell rang. Mr. Dobb, as though pulled by the same wire, at once listened at the top of the stairs. Hearing only the voices of his wife and Mr. Lock, Mr. Dobb summoned the callers upstairs.
“Thought you’d like to know,” said Mr. Lock, entering the room and carefully closing the door, “me and Looie have fixed it all up this very afternoon.”
“No!” cried Mr. Dobb, joyously. “Well, there’s quick work!”
“I see I was wrong now to suggest about that fifty quid to you, ’Orace,” said Mr. Lock, penitently.
“Don’t mention it!” begged Mr. Dobb. “I never give it another thought.”
“Yes, I know now I was wrong,” repeated Mr. Lock. “Looie pointed it out to me soon as ever I told ’er.”
“Ah, a nice, sensible, right-minded girl!”
“Yes; as she says, if we wants money to set up housekeeping with, let’s wait till after—”
“After what?” asked Mr. Dobb, as Mr. Lock stopped.