It took Gammon but a moment to dart into the clerk’s
room and ascertain that the person who had just gone
out was Lord Polperro. A moment more and he was
out in the street. The heavy-coated and mufflered
man was walking quickly southward; he waved his umbrella
to a passing cab, which, however, did not pull up.
Gammon followed for thirty yards. Again the man
hailed a cab, and this time successfully. Just
as he was about to step into the vehicle Gammon stood
beside him.
“How do you do, Mr. Clover?”
POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS
It was spoken with quiet confidence. Gammon smiled
as he looked steadily into the pale, thin face, which
at once grew mottled with a disturbance of the blood.
“You are making a mistake, sir,” replied
an indistinct voice, with an effort at dignity.
“Oh, no, not a bit of it. Not now I’ve
heard you speak, Mr. Clover.”
“I don’t understand you, sir,” sounded
more clearly, the pallid visage now a muddy red and
the eyes moist. “That is not my name.
Be so good as to go your way.”
“Certainly. I just wanted to make sure,
that’s all. No fuss. Good morning,
Mr. Clover.”
Gammon drew back. He heard the order “Charing
Cross,” and the cab drew away.
After a moment or two of irresolution Gammon walked
hurriedly back to the nearest public-house, where
he called for a glass of bitter and the Directory.
With the former he slaked a decided dryness of the
throat, the latter he searched eagerly in the section
“Court.” There it was! “Polperro,
Lord, 16, Lowndes Mansions, Sloane Street, S.W.
Junior Ramblers’ Club. Trefoyle, Liskeard,
Cornwall.”
By jorrocks!
With thoughts tuned to anything but the oil and colour
business he returned to Quodlings’ and had his
interview with the head of the firm. Mr. Quodling,
senior, was a gruff, heavy-featured man, decidedly
of coarse fibre; when moved he swore with gusto, and
it did not take much to put him out. At present
he was in an irritable mood, and, very unlike his
habit, gave scant attention to the affair of which
Gammon spoke. It would not have improved his temper
had he known that the town traveller was amusing himself
with the reflection that there was no trace of personal
resemblance between him and his brother Francis, who,
on the other hand, bore a very strong likeness indeed
to—Lord Polperro.
As soon as he could get away Gammon dispatched a telegram.
It was to Miss Sparkes, whom he requested to meet
him at the theatre door that night when she left.
“Something very important to tell you.”
