“No, sir, Mr. Elphick didn’t,” answered the porter. “But I should say they wouldn’t be long because they’d only got small suit-cases with them—such as they’d put a day or two’s things in, sir.”
“All right,” said Breton. He turned away towards Spargo who had already moved off. “What next?” he asked. “Charing Cross, I suppose!”
Spargo smiled and shook his head.
“No,” he answered. “I’ve no use for Charing Cross. They haven’t gone to Paris. That was all a blind. For the present let’s go back to your chambers. Then I’ll talk to you.”
Once within Breton’s inner room, with the door closed upon them, Spargo dropped into an easy-chair and looked at the young barrister with earnest attention.
“Breton!” he said. “I believe we’re coming in sight of land. You want to save your prospective father-in-law, don’t you?”
“Of course!” growled Breton. “That goes without saying. But——”
“But you may have to make some sacrifices in order to do it,” said Spargo. “You see——”
“Sacrifices!” exclaimed Breton. “What——”
“You may have to sacrifice some ideas—you may find that you’ll not be able to think as well of some people in the future as you have thought of them in the past. For instance—Mr. Elphick.”