Turner flushed. He felt certain that he was being bluffed, but Uncle Joseph would give him no opening.
"I represent the 'Searchlight,'" he said.
"In that case," said Uncle Joseph cheerfully, "I shall be delighted to offer you a lift back to the office. I am going to call on Mr. Dill at twelve o'clock. Come downstairs, and let us see if we can get a cab anywhere."
He locked the door of the flat, and proceeded cheerfully down the staircase, followed by the dazed and defeated Mr. Turner.
Ten minutes later Uncle Joseph was shaking hands with Dill.
"I have just had a narrow escape of being haled to justice by one of your bright young men," he said; and recounted his adventure.
Dill, lying back in his chair and smoking a cigarette,—it was said that he got through a box a day,—heard the story and chuckled.
"An unlucky coincidence for Turner," he said. "Still, he is all right. He is young, and wants a bit more savvy, but he is a glutton for work and as plucky as they make them. I always send him where I think there is a likelihood of any chucking-out being attempted. I am quite at sea about this Kind Heart business. It is evidently a biggish affair, with a big man behind it. I can't make out whether he is an old friend, or a new candidate for the Rogues' Catalogue altogether. But I'll nab him yet. Have another cigarette?"
"How are your Christmas charities going?" enquired Uncle Joseph, helping himself.
"Not too well," said Dill. "In the old days things were simple enough. I asked for the money and I got it. Now the public are bled white either by knaves like this fellow who runs the Kind Hearts, or a parcel of incompetent sentimental old women who waste one half of what they get on expenses and the other half on pauperisation. I have had a deficit each year for three years now."