"Hullo!" said Jack. "He must be going home too; I hope he won't come in here."
The new-comer, however, had no intention of making another attempt to force his society on the Triple Alliance; he passed them with a surly nod, and entered a compartment at the other end of the train.
Jack Vance lived in the suburbs of Todderton, about twenty minutes' walk from the railway; but for all that he managed to carry out his intention of being home in time for dinner; and the three boys, after receiving a hearty welcome, were soon seated down to a repast which came very acceptable after seven weeks of school fare.
"Jack," said Mr. Vance, "you know that house that was to let just on the other side of The Hermitage? Who d'you think's taken it?"
"I don't know, father."
"Why, that man Simpson, the uncle of your friend what's-his-name."
"He isn't my friend," answered Jack. "You mean Noaks. Fancy his coming to live so near to us as that! We saw him in the train just now. He's here for the holiday."
"I ought to tell you," continued Mr. Vance, turning to Diggory, "that our next-door neighbour is called 'The Hermit.' He's a queer old fellow, who lives by himself, and never makes friends or speaks to any one. He's supposed to be very clever, and I've heard it said that he's got a very valuable collection of coins, and is quite an authority on the subject; it's one of his hobbies."
"I suppose," said Mugford thoughtfully, "that as he's a hermit that's why his place is called The Hermitage."
"Well done, Mug!" said Jack, speaking with his mouth pretty full; "you're getting quite sharp."