'Will you do me a favour, my man?' and as I spoke a shining half-crown changed hands rather quietly. 'I want to speak to your friend Jack Poynter very particularly, but I am quite sure that he wishes to avoid me. If he comes back, will you write a word on a slip of paper and throw it on to the balcony of 64?--Just the words "At work now" will do, or any direction that will find him. I am very much in earnest over this.' The man looked at me and then at the half-crown. He had a good-humoured, stupid-looking face, but was young enough to like an unusual job. 'It will be worth more than that to you to bring me face to face with Jack Poynter, or to give me any news of him,' I continued. 'You do not know where he lives, for example?' 'No: we are none of us his mates, except Fowler and Dunn, and they don't know where he lodges: "Gentleman Jack" keeps himself close. But he'll be here sure enough by and by, and then I will let you know,' and with this I was obliged to be content. I was terribly vexed with myself. I felt I had managed badly. I ought to have confronted him in the empty house, where he could not have escaped me so easily. Would he come back again? As I recalled his terrified expression, his agitated words, I doubted whether he would put himself within my reach. I was so worried and miserable that I was obliged to own myself ill and to beg that I might be left in quiet. I had to endure a good deal of petting from Jill, who would keep coming into my room to see how my poor head was. Happily, one of my windows commanded an uncovered corner of the balcony. I could see without going down if any scrap of paper lay there. It was not until evening that I caught sight of an envelope lying on one of the seats. I rang my bell and begged Draper to bring it to me at once. She thought it had fluttered out of my window, and went down smilingly to fulfil my behest. It was a blank envelope, closely fastened, and I waited until Draper was out of the room to open it: the slip of paper was inside. 'Jack has not been here all day,' was scrawled on it, 'and the governor is precious angry. I doubt Jack has got into some trouble or other.--Your obedient servant, Joe Muggins.' CHAPTER XXXIV I COMMUNICATE WITH JOE MUGGINS Of course I knew it would be so; Eric had escaped me; but I could not help feeling very down-hearted over the disappointment of all my hopes.