“I’ll write to Glasgow for a price list to-night,” he thought, withdrawing the queer, stumpy key, and replacing the chintz cover, which gave the chest something of the appearance of an ottoman. “Yes; I’ll write to-night.” Just then his importunate thirst assailed him once more, and drove him downstairs to a cupboard in the parlour. CHAPTER XIX ONE morning, about a week later, John Risk on his arrival in the City, found his sister waiting in his private office. “I’m ordered to Newcastle to-morrow, for a couple of days,” she informed him. “What am I to do about Kitty? Naturally, she’d imagine all sorts of things if I told her she must not leave the flat during my absence, and I can hardly afford to tell the editor I don’t—” “You can take her with you, Hilda. Why not make a little holiday of it, and when you’ve finished the job at Newcastle, take a week by the sea somewhere? You’ve had no break this summer. You’re looking a bit fagged. Of course I’ll stand the racket.” “Dear old thing, I don’t believe I can refuse!” she cried. “Good! I’ll post you a cheque before midday. But now I must ask you to run away. This is my busy morning. By the way, you can tell Miss Kitty that the play is going on almost immediately. West caved in last night, and agreed to take his share, and, as luck would have it, —’s recent venture has turned out a frost, and the theatre is available—” “John! how many thousands is this going to cost you?” “None, I think. I believe in the play. However, that’s none of your business. You don’t think any the less of West for taking his share?” “No, indeed! Besides Kitty forced him by declaring she would not have the play go on at all, if he refused.—Well, I’m off,” said Hilda rather hurriedly, and with some colour in her cheeks. “One moment. You haven’t been followed by that man, have you?” he inquired. “No. Why do you ask? I’d have told you.” “So you would, my dear. Symington is in town at present, and I happen to know he has been selling more shares.” “Oh! . . . But, John, isn’t it time to act?” “Very nearly, I hope. That’s all, Hilda. Good luck to your holiday.” She kissed him and went out. A slight frown crossed his forehead for a moment. Then he pressed one of several buttons on his desk. Colin entered. He had a letter in his hand. “May I speak first, Mr. Risk? I’ve been waiting to show you this.” He handed over the letter; it was from the superintendent of the hospital where Sam the postman lay. “Ah!” exclaimed Risk, “this is what was wanted! ‘The operation on the skull has been successful,’ he read, ‘and the patient is now well enough to give you a short interview.’ . . . Hayward, you must go North by the first train, learn all you can, and instruct him to hold his tongue for the present.”