The young man took half a dozen steps. Then he turned abruptly and came back.
"By the bye," he said, "as you are a native of this place perhaps you can give me the address of a Mr. Grant—Theodore Grant."
"I should just think I could!" exclaimed Peter. "He's our Scoutmaster. He lives at Seamore Villa, just beyond the Martello Tower. But it's no use your calling. He won't be in."
"Won't be in?—that's a pity."
"'Cause he's away for three or four days," explained the Sea Scout. "And if he weren't, you wouldn't find him at home, 'cause he'd be out sailing with us," he added.
"Grant's away for a few days, you say? Do you happen to know where he's staying?"
"At Sablesham."
"Why, that's only twenty miles away," rejoined the stranger, his face brightening. "I can easily slip over there on my motorbike. Whereabouts in Sablesham is he staying, do you know?"
Yes, Peter did know, and forthwith gave the required information.
Then, with another "Good morning!" the bright young man walked briskly off and disappeared from view round the corner of the High Street.