“So everyone tells me.”
“And you’re really Alfred?”
“I am.”
“I’d like to talk business with you for a moment.”
He cocked his eye at me. I sidled off and went below.
At the foot of the companion-steps I met Voules.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Voules. “If it would be convenient I should be glad to have the afternoon off.”
I’m bound to say I rather liked his manner. Absolutely normal. Not a trace of the fellow-conspirator about it. I gave him the afternoon off.
I had lunch—George didn’t show up—and as I was going out I was waylaid by the girl Pilbeam. She had been crying.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but did Mr. Voules ask you for the afternoon?”