'Babe's place, of course. The Babe holds the clue to this business. We must get it out of him. 'Night, Biffen.'
'Good-night, sir.'
Arrived at the Babe's residence, they rang the bell, and, in the interval of waiting for the door to be opened, listened with envy to certain sounds of revelry which filtered through the windows of a room to the right of the porch.
'The Babe seems to be making a night of it,' said Charteris. 'Oh'—as the servant opened the door—'can we see Mr MacArthur, please?'
The servant looked doubtful on the point.
'There's company tonight, sir.'
'I knew he was making a night of it,' said Charteris to Tony. 'It's not Mr MacArthur we want to see. It's—dash it, what's the Babe's name?'
'Robert, I believe. Wouldn't swear to it.'
'Mr Robert. Is he in?' It seemed to Charteris that the form of this question smacked of Ollendorf. He half expected the servant to say 'No, but he has the mackintosh of his brother's cousin'. It produced the desired effect, however, for after inviting them to step in, the servant disappeared, and the Babe came on the scene, wearing a singularly prosperous expression, as if he had dined well.
'Hullo, you chaps,' he said.