Hetherwick nodded, and smoked in silence for awhile.
"Think I shall go down there," he said at last.
Kenthwaite stared, wonderingly.
"Keen as all that!" he exclaimed.
"Queer business!" said Hetherwick. "Like to solve it."
"Oh, well, it's only a four hours' run from King's Cross," observed Kenthwaite. "Interesting town, too. Old as the hills and modern as they make 'em. Excellent hotel—'White Bear.' And I'll tell you what, my future's brother is a solicitor there—Michael Hollis. I'll give you a letter of introduction to him, and he'll show you round and give you any help you need."
"Good man!" said Hetherwick. "Write it!"
Kenthwaite sat down and wrote, and handed over the result.
"What do you want to find out, exactly?" he asked, as Hetherwick thanked him, and rose to go.
"All about the woman, and why Hannaford cut her picture out of the paper," answered Hetherwick. "Well—see you when I get back."