"Rather lucky," agreed the Kingsbridge manager, turning the key in the lock. "I'd just as lief not have it known that you're here. I didn't want you to come, but you insisted. How'd you get here?"
"Gas wagon."
"Oh, yes. Where is it?"
"Left it on the outskirts, so's not to attract attention. Give the chauffeur orders to drive off an' come back in an hour."
"I tried to shut you off from coming when you telephoned, but—"
"I was all ready to start. I'd made up my mind to see ye to-night, anyhow. Shake hands with Mr. Dyke, Mr. Hutchinson."
"Very glad to know you, sport," said Fancy; but he dropped Bob Hutchinson's cold hand almost as soon as he touched it. "I think Mike told you over the phone that I was all right."
The Kingsbridge manager shrugged his shoulders. "I don't quite get wise to his reason for saying that. I presume this is nothing but a social call?"
"Social blazes!" growled Riley. "Think I'd ride thirty miles at night just to make a social call, Bob? You know better."
"If you came for any other purpose," said
