‘Yes,’ said the policeman, ‘but there isn’t another for twenty minutes.’
Mr. Seth Preene, the possessor of the hook nose, knew that Well enough, but he wished to let the policeman know that he was waiting for an omnibus, otherwise the policeman might have wondered at his loitering so long.
When young Limpet came out, Mr. Preene and his young friend watched him into the cab and heard him tell the cabman where to drive to.
‘Now then, Boss,’ said Mr. Preene, when the cab had driven off, ‘you know what to do.’
‘Rumbo,’ answered the young gentleman. ‘He’s got something in his tail pocket as he didn’t ‘ave when he went in.’
‘And that he won’t have when he gets home, eh, Ross?’ said Mr. Preene, with an encouraging laugh.
‘Not if Boss Knivett can help it,’ said the youth with a grin. Then he hailed a hansom and desired to be driven to the street in which the Junior Corinthian Club was situated.
‘Blue Pigeons at ten if it’s right,’ whispered Mr. Preene, as he closed the cab-door for his young friend. Then the driver whipped his horse and whirled Mr. Boss Knivett rapidly from the watchful eye of his friend.
That afternoon as Mr. Limpet, junior, strolled up Bond Street, Mr. Boss Knivett strolled also. But Mr. Limpet, junior, was a long time giving Mr. Boss the desired chance, and he began to fear he might not have a good day’s sport after all.
The little bird whose tail Mr. Knivett wished to get close enough to to put salt upon without observation kept from shop-windows and from crowds and strolled about well in the middle of the streets.