“Yes, young man; you can go back.”
“But—”
“I said, go back, sir—go back! The office is closed,” said the old man fiercely; and there was something menacing in the manner of his approach, as he backed his junior to the closed door, and unlocked it and pointed to the street.
“Mr Crampton—” began Harry.
The old man looked at him as if he could have struck him down, waved him aside, and closed and locked the door.
Harry stood a few moments thinking. What could he do to gain an entrance there, and have a quiet search of the place? The only plan open seemed to be to wait until Crampton had gone away.
He had just come to this conclusion, after walking a short distance along the street and returning, when a fresh shock awaited him. Van Heldre’s front door was open, and Duncan Leslie came out, walking quickly towards him, but not noticing whom he approached till they were face to face.
“Ah, Mr Vine,” he said, holding out his hand; “I had some thought of coming up to you.”
“What for?”
“What for? Surely at a time like this there ought not to be a gap between friends. I am afraid you misunderstood me the other night. I am very sorry. There is my hand.”