“Yes; don’t you remember?”
“I get mixed up in thinking about things. But it is all right. We were.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Oh, a private establishment kept by an old chap called Septimus Childe,—Lucky Number was our nickname for him.”
Bruce betrayed no surprise at this startlingly simple statement. He said casually:
“I mean where was the school situated?”
“At Brighton in my time. But afterwards he shifted to some place near London—something to do with examinations, I fancy.”
“But don’t you know where?”
“How should I? I was at Sandhurst then. I believe the old boy is dead. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it has something to do with the inquiry. I won’t trouble you now with the details.”