“Who might that be?” queried the barrister.
“Bude,” answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
“But,” he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window, “what are we going to do about him out there?”
Robin laughed.
“Him?” he said. “Oh, I’m going to take him out for an airing!”
Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
“Listen, Bruce,” he said. “Give me ten minutes’ start to get rid of this jackal. Then clear out. There’s a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If you get on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make it easily. Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here to-night if you like. I’ll expect you when I see you ... with that letter. Savvy?”
The boy stood up.
“You’ll have that letter to-night,” he answered. “But in the meantime,”—he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots at Robin,—“what do you make of this?”
Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his cigarette-case.