"Thanks," said Frobisher; "it will be a favor. It's lucky I thought of coming to you."
"Never mind that. I feel that I ought to help Graham out: he's an old and valued servant. But I don't see how you are interested in the thing."
Frobisher smiled.
"It's one's duty to help a fellow creature who's in serious danger. Then I believe I may call myself a friend of Allinson's."
"There's a point to be considered. The most likely place to meet the party would be in the neighborhood of the food caches. You intimate that there's a risk of Allinson's missing them; but he must have a rough idea as to about where they are. As Mappin's out of town, wouldn't it be well to wire and ask him exactly where they were to be made?"
"On the whole, I'd rather get the information from Mrs. Graham. No doubt she knows her husband's plans."
The mill-owner gave him a searching glance. He was a shrewd man and suspected that there was a good reason for his visitor's preference.
"Yes," he said pointedly, "that might be wiser."
"There may have been some misunderstanding about the precise location of the caches," Frobisher explained. "Mrs. Graham will know where her husband meant them to be made—which of course is the most important thing."
"Just so," agreed the other. "Excuse me for a few minutes."