“In London?”
“Yes.”
“I met a man of that name there. He’s the one that rescued me and a friend from the fog pirate. He’s a jeweler.”
“So’s this one,” exclaimed Carl. “They must be the same man. Did your man have a store in Bond street?”
“Yes.”
“What kind o’ looking fellow was he?—kind o’ stout with sharp, black eyes?”
“That’s him,” said Guy eagerly. “It’s a wonder I didn’t meet you with him or hear him speak about you. He told me all about himself and his friends, I thought. Were you with him much?”
“Quite a good deal. We took several motor rides together.”
“So did we.”
“And he didn’t give you a racket?”