I got back to the Boar feeling that I had done a very good afternoon's work indeed. VI The Scorpions (continues Blair's diary) were all very merry at dinner that night--particularly at my expense. I was the only one who had not been out to Bancroft Road to look over the ground. Apparently they had had a very cheery time. “Well, Falstaff, what luck?” I asked Carter. “Splendid!” he replied. “The local butcher has given me a job and I'm going to call there for a meat order tomorrow morning.” “What!” shouted someone. “On Sunday? Not likely!” I knew mighty well that Carter would not concoct anything as crude as that, and wondered what deviltry he had devised. “I noticed that two telegrams were delivered at the house this afternoon,” said Forbes, in a quiet, non-committal kind of way. “Perhaps Joe is on his way here,” said I. “If so, Good-Night!” As I spoke, I wondered rather anxiously what the _other_ telegram could be. “Well, we saw her, anyway!” said Whitney, “and she's marvellous! She wears a blue tam-o' shanter and has an ankle like a fairy tale. We saw her walk down the street.” “That's nothing,” I retorted, “I saw her hours ago. She was on the train with us from Birmingham this morning.” This started a furious wrangle. They said I hadn't played fair, as the contest didn't begin until two o'clock. My point was that I had not transgressed the rules as I had done nothing to profit by my accident in seeing her first. “I couldn't help seeing her, could I?” I asked. “You could have, too, if you hadn't been all frowsting over _Tit-Bits_ in the train. And after all, I didn't _know_ it was Kathleen. I only suspected it.” I changed the conversation by asking where the Goblin was. No one had noticed before that he hadn't turned up. This was a bit disconcerting. I secretly thought him the most dangerous competitor. He has a quiet, impish twinkle in his eye, and an unobtrusive way of getting what he wants. However, the others scoffed at my fears. Although they all talked a great deal about the amusing time they had had, I could not gather that they had really accomplished much. Forbes claimed to have seen Fred, and said he looked like a rotter. We drank Kathleen's health a couple of times, and then the other three sat down to dummy bridge. I slipped away to the Public Library, partly to get some more of my antiquarian information about Wolverhampton, and partly because I knew my absence would disquiet them. I found the Library after some difficulty. In the large reading-room I hunted up some books of reference, but to my disappointment Mr. Kent's volume was out. Looking round for a place to sit, the first person I saw was the Goblin, bent very busily over a book and making notes on a pad of paper. I leaned over him. “Hello, Goblin,” I whispered. “Getting ready for a First?” He started, and tried to cover his volume with a newspaper, but I had seen it. It was a cook book.