“They had forgotten to draw down the blinds, and he climbed up a lamp-post and looked through the window,” was the solution of the problem put forward by the Wee Laddie.
“I’m dining there again on Saturday,” volunteered Jack Herring. “If any of you will promise not to make a disturbance, you can hang about on the Park side, underneath the shadow of the fence, and watch me go in. My hansom will draw up at the door within a few minutes of eight.”
The Babe and the Poet agreed to undertake the test.
“You won’t mind our hanging round a little while, in case you’re thrown out again?” asked the Babe.
“Not in the least, so far as I am concerned,” replied Jack Herring. “Don’t leave it too late and make your mother anxious.”
“It’s true enough,” the Babe recounted afterwards. “The door was opened by a manservant and he went straight in. We walked up and down for half an hour, and unless they put him out the back way, he’s telling the truth.”
“Did you hear him give his name?” asked Somerville, who was stroking his moustache.
“No, we were too far off,” explained the Babe. “But—I’ll swear it was Jack—there couldn’t be any mistake about that.”
“Perhaps not,” agreed Somerville the Briefless.
Somerville the Briefless called at the offices of Good Humour, in Crane Court, the following morning, and he also borrowed Miss Ramsbotham’s Debrett.