I had more confidence in a plan I then set in motion. I have a friend in London of the name of Flynn. He is an American newspaper man. Flynn says he would like to be a "journalist," but needs the money; therefore he continues to be a newspaper man, and he is a good one.
Flynn is connected with one of the big news associations and after drifting with the tide of cab and omnibus traffic which gorges on Fleet Street, I finally located him in an office in New Bridge Street. I had not seen him in five years.
"Hello, Smith!" he exclaimed, placidly as if we had spent the preceding evening together. "When did you strike town?"
"Last night," I said, heartily shaking hands.
"I see that you recently put a crimp in that Wall Street gang," he observed, lighting a cigarette and leaning back in his chair. "You were in with Harding on that deal, weren't you?"
"Yes," I said, "and I'm looking for him."
I briefly told him of the death of my uncle, and explained that Harding had left suddenly and that it was necessary I should locate him without delay.
"He was in London stopping at the Savoy a week ago," said Flynn, after consulting a record book. "I sent a man to see him and he wouldn't be seen. No use for you to go there; they won't tell you where he went."
"But can you help me locate him?" I eagerly asked.
"Certainly I can, provided you stand the tolls," he said. "Electricity is as rapid here as in the United States, and if this magnate is on one of these islands we can get his address in four or five hours, if we have any kind of luck. Suppose we wire the twenty larger cities and towns, about the same number of summer resorts, and the leading golf centres?"