"How old?" inquired Harborough.
"Fifteen this month."
"H'm, beginning to think what he wants to be," commented the baronet. "What are you doing with him?"
"He's at boarding-school," answered Bobby. "I think he'll go in for motor-engineering. He wanted to have a shot for Sandhurst, but, unless something turns up, I can't run to it."
"Nothing like the Service for a healthy youngster, provided he's keen," commented Sir Hugh. "Wish I'd gone in for Osborne when I was a lad. Instead of that I got out of hand, and my governor packed me off to Canada to find my feet. I did," he added grimly.
The baronet glanced at his watch again, and then addressed Villiers.
"Can you drive a car?" he asked. "You can—good. Will you mind driving me in? Claverhouse can take his, and then I'll have something to get home in. Excuse me a moment while I get my gear."
He went out, taking the attaché-case with him. Villiers turned to his companions.
"Wonder if he's fixed up for the return journey?" he remarked. "Bobby, you thundering old ox, why the blazing Harry did you hedge? I'd have advanced you the ready like a shot."
"I know, old man," replied Beverley. "I'd jump at it, but there's Dick. I'm a non-starter."