“This beats me.”
“Well, that was what he said, anyway. Dashed unpleasant he was about it too. Oh, and there’s another thing, Sam. I wish you’d ask that man of yours not to call me brother. He——”
“Great Cæsar!” said Sam.
He took Willoughby Braddock by the arm and urged him toward the steps. His face wore a purposeful look.
“You go in, like a good chap, and talk to Kay,” he said. “Tell her I’ll be in in a minute. There’s something I’ve got to look into.”
“Yes, but listen——”
“Run along!”
“But I don’t understand.”
“Push off!”
Yielding to superior force, Willoughby Braddock entered San Rafael, walking pensively. And Sam, stepping off the gravel onto the grass, moved with a stealthy tread toward his home. Vague but lively suspicions were filling his mind.