“I don’t mean to start at all.”
Lord Manton pretended not to hear this remark.
“Do the thing in style if you do it at all,” he said. “Get bloodhounds. I’ll give you the address of a man in England who breeds them. Fish out an old sock of the doctor’s; let the bloodhound get the scent, and then we’ll be off across country.”
“I don’t mean to do any such fool thing.”
“We’ll have glorious paragraphs in all the papers,” said Lord Manton. “Mysterious Disappearance of a Doctor. Vigorous Action of the Royal Irish Constabulary. District Inspector Goddard thinks he has a Clue. Bloodhounds used. Fiancee in tears. Your portrait will appear along with Miss Blow’s.”
“It’s all very fine to laugh,” said Mr. Goddard; “but of course I’m not going——”
“You’ll have to. You’ve promised. You can’t go back on a promise made to a lady. Her portrait will be published in the papers and everybody will see how charming she is. You’ll be an object of universal hatred and contempt if you go back on your word.”
“If ever it gets into the papers at all, you’ll look quite as great a fool as I shall. Your note will be published. And, after all, you know, the girl has something to say for herself. The doctor’s gone. Now, why the devil did he go, and where has he gone to?”
“Can’t you give a guess at his motives?”
“No, I can’t. It wasn’t debt. Miss Blow told me herself that she was ready to pay every penny that he owed.”