“Takes his lunch at Longford—King’s Head,” said Sir Roland.
“Or Colnbrook,” said the Viscount. “They do you a very good dish of mutton and broiled mushrooms at the George.”
“No, no, Pel,” said Sir Roland gently. “You’re thinking of the Pigeons at Brentford.”
The Viscount devoted some thought to this, and came to the conclusion that his friend was right. “Well, then, call it Longford. Lunches at noon. Won’t get to London before two.”
“I wouldn’t say that, Pel,” objected Sir Roland.
“Damme, you must give the fellow time to sit a bit over his wine!”
“Not at Longford,” said Sir Roland simply. “He won’t sit over his wine at the King’s Head.”
“Well, if it’s like that, he won’t take his luncheon there,” said the Viscount. “That puts us out.”
Captain Heron sat up. “Stop talking about his luncheon!” he begged. “He’ll eat it somewhere, and that’s all that concerns us. How are you going to intercept him?”
The Viscount let his chin sink into his cravat, and pondered deeply.