"So—Mr. Hall has gone to Dublin, eh!" remarked Mr. Blount reflectively. "Hum—well, I'm obliged to you for your kindness. You see, the people who engaged me are very anxious to meet Mr. Hall again, and his disappearance from town worried them. Allow me to thank you again, and please say good-bye for me to Mr. Martin, as I must return at once."
He had his hand on the door-knob, when turning as though a new idea had occurred to him, he continued:
"Would there be any objection to my looking about Mr. Hall's room? It is possible I might find some cl—something which would enable me to put my people in communication with him."
"No, I don't know that there is any objection," replied Mr. Stafford, slowly, and led the way to Hall's rooms. In one corner of the dressing-room stood a handsome desk, and after looking carelessly about the rooms Mr. Blount examined this carefully.
Mr. Stafford stood looking on, hardly knowing whether or not to stop the searcher. To his relief, however, Mr. Blount stopped after pulling out one or two drawers—behind one of which he found a couple of empty envelopes addressed to "Mr. Henry Hall, No. — Harley St., London." These had evidently been pushed out by other papers.
After glancing at the address and making a mental memorandum of it, Blount said he would look no further.
"We shall have to wait until Mr. Hall comes back or writes," he said, and took his departure.
Going out he met Martin and the two ladies about taking a walk.
"Well, what luck," asked Martin, who excused himself to the ladies and hastened to meet him.
"I've found his address in the city and it is there we must try for him."