"Possibly," said Oppenshaw, who was in a hurry and only too glad of any chance of cutting the business short. "Possibly. Anyhow, there is some use in trying, and tell Mudd it's absolutely useless my going. I shall be glad to do anything I can by letter or telephone."
Brownlow took up his hat, then he recaptured Tidd and gave him the cheering news that he had Simon's address. "I'll go with you myself," said Brownlow. "Of course, the expense will fall on the office. I must send a telegram to the office and my wife to say I won't be back to-night. We can't get to Upton till this evening. We'll have to go as we are, without even waiting to pack a bag."
"That doesn't matter; that doesn't matter," said Tidd.
They were in the street now and bundling into the waiting taxi.
"Victoria Station," said Brownlow to the driver. Then to Tidd, "I can telegraph from the station."
They drove off.
CHAPTER VI WHAT HAPPENED TO SIMON
"He came back two hours ago, sir, and he was in his room ten minutes ago—but he's gone."