"IN AN INSTANT IT HAD ROLLED ITSELF UP AND HIDDEN BEHIND A GATE-POST."
"We did think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson," said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could believe.
"And where are the others?" asked Uncle Reginald.
"I don't exactly know," Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully.
"Well," said Uncle Reginald, "I must fly. I've a case in the County Court. That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can't take the chances of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted Hall and give you lunch at the Ship afterwards! But, alas! it may not be."
The uncle felt in his pocket.
"I mustn't enjoy myself," he said, "but that's no reason why you shouldn't. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you some desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu."
And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella the good and high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's hand.
"Well!" said Anthea.