Old Sam rubbed his chin.
“I sits under the Reverend David Pryce, mister, and a good God-fearin’ man he be. I took him a cookin’ o’ runner-beans on’y yesterday. I works for Mr. Dodge what owns Greenway Manor and ’as a stud-farm at Newmarket they say.”
“Charles Dodge?” asked the younger officers.
“Ay, Charlie Dodge. You write and ask ’un if he knows old Sam Gates.”
The two officers looked at each other, and the older one looked at Sam more closely.
“It’s very extraordinary,” he remarked.
“Everybody knows Charlie Dodge,” added the younger officer.
It was at that moment that a wave of genius swept over old Sam. He put his hand to his head, and suddenly jerked out:
“What’s more, I can tell ’ee where this yere Paul is. He’s actin’ a gardener in a convent at—”
He puckered up his brow and fumbled with his hat, and then got out: