"The only trouble is that I can't leave here until after five. I've asked a man to come and see me this afternoon, and there's no possible way in which I can put him off." I did a moment's rapid thinking. "Have you got such a thing as a time-table?" I enquired. He handed me an A.B.C. off the mantelpiece, and, hunting up the right page, I soon found what I wanted. "The best plan for you," I said, "will be to come straight through to Martlesea. There's a six o'clock train from Liverpool Street which gets in at seven-fifteen. I'll go back this afternoon and arrange with Bobby to pick you up at the station. Then he can bring you over to Greensea in his motor-boat." Campbell nodded. "That will do me all right. What time shall we get in?" "Oh, somewhere about eight-thirty," I replied "It's not more than a dozen miles, and you won't hang about on the way--not if Bobby's driving her." I picked up my hat and coat. "I'd better be clearing off now," I added. "That will give you a chance to settle up your affairs and make your will." With a twinkle in his eyes Campbell held out his hand. "Well, good-bye for the present," he remarked. "Don't do anything rash while your friend's away, Mr. Dryden. If you take my advice you'll just lock yourself in the house and wait there till we arrive." He walked with me to the front door, and, leaving him standing on the steps, I made my way back down the alley into the roar and bustle of Fleet Street. In answer to my enquiry a friendly policeman directed me to the nearest post office, where, after a brief deliberation, I sent off the following wire to Bobby: "Business satisfactorily arranged. Meet me Pen Mill four o'clock." By the time I had handed this in it was already a few minutes past one, and, feeling that whatever else I had accomplished I had certainly earned a good lunch, I turned into the Cock Tavern, which was only half a dozen yards away. Here I feasted sumptuously on roast saddle of mutton and a bottle of Burgundy--an excellent wine for anyone who is suffering from the after-effects of two hours' continuous oratory. There being no occasion for hurry, I dawdled away another pleasant half hour over a cigar, and then at a leisurely pace I walked back through the City to Liverpool Street. At five and twenty to three I was watching the panorama of East London slip by the carriage window, with Fortnum and Mason's hamper reposing safely in the opposite rack. On reaching Torrington station I was fortunate enough to secure the same ramshackle cab which had carried me to Pen Mill two days before. Packing myself and the hamper inside, I requested the driver to repeat the performance, and at a stumbling trot we once more jogged off through the wet and narrow lanes. Bobby had evidently received my wire, for as we descended the hill I caught sight of him strolling in solitary state up and down the hard. He came forward to meet me, and opened the door of the cab when we drew up.