“And there’s just one thing more, Spike. I know you’ll excuse me mentioning it. When we’re at Dreever Castle you will find yourself within reach of a good deal of silver and other things. Would it be too much to ask you to forget your professional instincts? I mentioned this before in a general sort of way, but this is a particular case.”
“Ain’t I to get busy at all, den?” queried Spike.
“Not so much as a salt-spoon,” said Jimmy firmly. “Now we’ll whistle a cab and go and choose you some more clothes.”
Accompanied by Spike, who came within an ace of looking almost respectable in new blue serge (“small gent’s”—off the peg), Jimmy arrived at Paddington with a quarter of an hour to spare. Lord Dreever appeared ten minutes later, accompanied by a man of about Jimmy’s age. He was tall and thin, with cold eyes and tight, thin lips. His clothes fitted him in the way clothes do fit one man in a thousand. They were the best part of him. His general appearance gave one the idea that his meals did him little good, and his meditations rather less. He had practically no conversation.
This was Lord Dreever’s friend Hargate—the Hon. Louis Hargate. Lord Dreever made the two acquainted; but even as they shook hands Jimmy had an impression that he had seen the man before, but where or in what circumstances he could not remember. Hargate appeared to have no recollection of him, so he did not mention the matter. A man who has led a wandering life often sees faces which come back to him later on, absolutely detached from their context. He might merely have passed Lord Dreever’s friend in the street. But Jimmy had an idea that the other had figured in some episode which at the moment had had an importance.
What that episode was had escaped him. He dismissed the thing from his mind. It was not worth harrying his memory about.
Judicious tipping had secured them a compartment to themselves. Hargate, having read the evening paper, went to sleep in the far corner. Jimmy and Lord Dreever, who sat opposite one another, fell into a desultory conversation.
At Reading Lord Dreever’s remarks took a somewhat intimate turn. Jimmy was one of those men whose manner invites confidences. His lordship began to unburden his soul of certain facts relating to the family.
“Have you ever met my Uncle Thomas?” he inquired. “You know Blunt’s Stores? Well, he’s Blunt. It’s a company now, but he still runs it. He married my aunt. You’ll meet him at Dreever.”
Jimmy said he would be delighted.