"Look here, Mr. Parham-Carter," said Dick softly. "What about your going round to his house and seeing if he's in, and what he's likely to be doing to-day."
"He'll be at the factory till this evening."
"The factory?"
"Yes; he's working at a jam factory just now."
A sound of fury and disdain broke from Jack.
"Well," continued Dick, "(May I take a cigarette, by the way?), why shouldn't you go round and make inquiries, and find out how the land lies? Then Kirkby and I might perhaps hang about a bit and run up against him—if you'd just give us a hint, you know."
The other looked at him a moment.
"Well, perhaps I might," he said doubtfully. "But what—"
"Good Lord! But you'll be keeping your promise, won't you? After all, it's quite natural we should come down after his letter—and quite on the cards that we should run up against him.... Please to go at once, and let us wait here."
In a quarter of an hour Mr. Parham-Carter came back quickly into the room and shut the door.