Fayre calculated for a moment. “I’ll come up by the night train to-morrow, arriving Sunday morning. Then I can look you up on Monday.” “Good! Or, better still, lunch with me on Sunday at the Troc.” “Excellent! I’ll be there at one. By the way, if Gregg was making the night train he’ll get in about six-twenty. Tell your man to be careful. He’s no fool, remember.” “Thanks. See you Sunday, then.” Fayre was hanging up the receiver when a voice at his elbow made him start. “What’s this? Not the naughty doctor doing a bunk? Now, that looks fishy, if you like!” Bill Staveley had come in unperceived and had overheard Fayre’s last sentence. “He’s off,” answered Fayre. “Met him just now on the way to the Junction, luggage and all. It looks as if he’d got the wind up.” Staveley glanced at his watch. “Even if you’re only just back he was allowing time and to spare for the five-forty. What makes you think he was going to London?” “Nothing. He may not have been going by train at all.” For answer Staveley pushed him gently to one side and, picking up the receiver, gave a number. “That Whitbury station? That you, Millar? Lord Staveley speaking. Has the London train gone yet? Confound it, then, I’ve missed it. I wanted to catch Dr. Gregg about something. He was on that train, wasn’t he? I thought so. You don’t happen to know if he was going straight through to London, do you? If he’s stopping at Carlisle, I might ring him up there. Thanks, I’ll hold on.” There was a short pause while he waited, the receiver to his ear. “Hullo. Yes. He booked through, did he? Yes, that settles it. Thanks very much.” He replaced the receiver and turned to Fayre. “Booked to London and had his luggage labelled straight through. Want to let your man know?” He stood waiting while Fayre put through the trunk call. “What’s the next move?” he asked. “By Jove, I’m beginning to think you’re right about the doctor!” “I’d better go up myself and see if Grey’s got anything for me to do there. To-morrow night will be time enough.” “If it wasn’t for this blessed Cattle Show on Monday I’d come myself. I’m beginning to enjoy this business. I wish it hadn’t been Gregg, though.” “So do I,” agreed Fayre heartily. “I disliked the fellow at first, I admit, but now I’ve got a sneaking sympathy for him. He’s a loyal friend, whatever else he may be.” “He’s a benighted idiot to cut and run now. I’d have given him credit for more sense. Was Cynthia with you when you saw him?” “Yes. And I shall have my work cut out to prevent her from dashing up to town with me, I expect, once she knows what it all means. Which reminds me that if I don’t go and make a clean breast of the whole thing at once I shall never hear the last of it. It’s no good keeping it from her now.”