‘Who was that?’
‘You know him—Beecham, who has been living so long at the King’s Head.’
‘That was an odd coincidence.’
‘Yes, it seemed so,’ rejoined Wrentham, with the tone of one who sees more than he reports. ‘Very odd that the day after your uncle leaves the Langham and takes up his quarters in this quiet private hotel, Beecham should bundle up his traps, quit Kingshope, and come to settle in the same house.’
‘Has he left our place, then?’
‘So he says—for of course I spoke to him. He does not know where he is going to, or whether he will return to Kingshope or not. I said it wasn’t fair to his friends to vanish from amongst them without a hint, or giving them a chance to express their regret at losing him. He said it was a way he had of making up his mind suddenly and acting on its decision instantly. He hoped, however, to have the pleasure of seeing me again. With that he shook hands and bustled into the hotel before it came into my head to ask him if he knew Mr Shield.’
‘How could he know him?’ muttered Philip a little impatiently, for this episode interrupted the account of Wrentham’s endeavours to obtain a reply from his uncle as to whether or not he would consent to see him on the following day.
‘Don’t know how exactly; but there are lots of ways in which they might have met. Beecham has travelled a bit in all sorts of odd corners of the earth. Anyhow, I think they know each other.’
‘Well, well, that is no business of ours.—Did you see Mr Shield at last?’
‘No; but I got this message from him with his compliments. He regretted that he could not see me, but the letter should have immediate attention.’