“Dear me now,” said the man, thoughtfully; “now when was that—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday—?”
“Thursday, Friday, Saturday,” cried Claud, impatiently. “What a dawdling old buffer you are! Come, when was it: you must know?”
“Really, sir, I can’t be sure.”
“Was it this week?”
“I shouldn’t like to say, sir.”
“Well, last week then?”
“It might have been, sir.”
“Yah!” growled Claud. “Think he’s down at Chislehurst?”
“He may be, sir.”
“Yes, and he may be at Jericho.”