"Is that so? It's a long job, the law. Anyway, they were all very fit and well. Your mater was very sympathetic over my engagement being broken off. I saw the Bevengtons. Jolly decent girl that Bevengton girl. Can't understand why you don't fix it up there."
"I explained the reason just now."
"Quite so, so you did. By the way, the girl's not gone away altogether, has she?"
"No, her mother's ill, be back to-day possibly." Carstairs was watching him closely and he saw the old, old light that he knew flicker up into Darwen's eyes.
They reached Councillor Donovan's hotel: a not very high class place near the docks. Darwen called for drinks. "Is Mr Donovan about?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"You might tell him that some one would like to speak to him, will you?"
"What name, sir?"
Darwen paused. "Er—Carstairs," he said. Carstairs looked at his chief in questioning surprise.
"Wait a minute," Darwen said in answer to his look. "Keep your eyes wide open and your mouth shut."