Corrie shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, but ’twill do neither of us good if he comes across her in London—”
“How do you know he’s going back there?”
“I canna’ say for certain, but I’ve heard o’ talk among the servants that there was trouble with his father the other night.”
“Possible,” Symington grinned and became grave. “Then what’s he doing back here?”
“Ye beat me there. But if ye want advice, it’s just this: get a hold o’ the girl without delay. That’s the only way now to make absolute sure o’ the Zeniths. I can give ye her address for certain.”
“Well, I’m hanged!”
“My sister got it this morning. Write it down, will ye?”
“It’s just as I thought,” said Symington, a moment later, “but I’m obliged to you, Corrie. And, as you say, it’s the only way to make sure of the Zeniths without risking trouble. I’ll go south to-night.”
“How are ye going to get a hold o’ her? Ye’ve got to mind she’s wi’ friends—at least I suppose so.”
“You can leave that to me. Kitty won’t escape me a third time! I wonder if she’s much in love with that fellow Hayward. Well, if she is, I’ll make use of the fact.”