"What? Lose time like that! No, guv'nor; I'll half kill him--hang me if I don't." "No, no! I know you feel ready to--a villain--but that won't do. You'll only frighten the poor girl more, and she'll cling to him instead of coming away with you." "But, guv'nor--" "Don't hesitate, boy; I tell you I'm right. Let's get Kate away from him, and then you may break every bone in his skin if you like." "But I want to give him a lesson at once." "Yes, of course you do--but Kate and her fortune, my boy. Once you're on the scent, telegraph to me. I'll come and stay at Day's, in Surrey Street." "Suppose they're gone abroad, guv'nor?" "Well, follow them--all round the world if it's necessary. By the way, you've always been very thick with Harry; now, between men of the world, has there ever been any affair going on? You know what I mean." "Lots, dad." "Ah!--Ever married either of them?" "Not he." "That's a pity," said Wilton, "because it would have made matters so easy. Well, there, be off. The dog-cart's at the door." Claud slapped his pocket, started for the station, and went up to stay at a bigger hotel than the quiet little place affected by his father; and about twelve o'clock the next day he presented himself at Garstang's office, where Barlow, the old clerk, was busy answering letters for his employer to sign. "Morning, Barlow," said Claud, "Mr Harry in his room?" "Mr Harry, sir? No, sir. I thought he was down with you, shooting and hunting." "Eh? Did he say that he was going down to Northwood?" "Well, dear me! Really, Mr Claud Wilton, sir, I can't be sure. I think I did hear him say something about Northwood; but whether it was that he was going there or had come back from there I really am not sure. Many pheasants this season?" "Oh, never mind the pheasants," cried Claud, impatiently. "When was that?" "Dear me now," said the man, thoughtfully; "now when was that--Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday--?" "Thursday, Friday, Saturday," cried Claud, impatiently. "What a dawdling old buffer you are! Come, when was it: you must know?" "Really, sir, I can't be sure." "Was it this week?" "I shouldn't like to say, sir." "Well, last week then?" "It might have been, sir." "Yah!" growled Claud. "Think he's down at Chislehurst?" "He may be, sir." "Yes, and he may be at Jericho." "Yes, sir; but you'll excuse me, there was a knock." The clerk shuffled off his stool, and went to the door to admit a fresh visitor in the person of Wilton pere. "Ah, Claud, my boy! You here?" "Yes, father, I'm here; just come," said the young man, sulkily. "Well, found them?" "Do I look as if I had found them, dad? No." "Tut-tut-tut!" ejaculated Wilton, who looked pale and worn with anxiety. "Mr Garstang in, Mr Barlow?" "Yes, sir," said the clerk; "shall I say you are here?" "Ye-es," said Wilton. "Take in my card, and say that I shall be obliged if he will give me an interview."