He's gone off to consult. Carless, you ought to have that man carefully shadowed, to see where and to whom he goes."
"Good idea!" muttered Mr. Driver. "We might see to that."
"I can put a splendid man on to him, at once, Mr. Carless," remarked Portlethwaite. "If you could furnish me with his address—"
"Methley and Woodlesford know it," said Mr. Carless. "Um—yes, that might be very useful. Ring Methley's up, Portlethwaite, and ask if they would oblige us with the name of Mr. Cave's hotel—some residential hotel in Lancaster Gate, I believe."
Mr. Pawle and Viner went away, ruminating over the recent events, and walked to the old lawyer's offices in Bedford Row. Mr. Pawle's own particular clerk met them as they entered.
"There's Mr. Roland Perkwite, of the Middle Temple, in your room, sir," he said, addressing his master. "You may remember him, sir—we've briefed him once or twice in some small cases. Mr. Perkwite wants to see you about this Ashton affair—he says he's something to tell you."
Mr. Pawle looked at Viner and beckoned him to follow.
"Here a little, and there a little!" he whispered. "What are we going to hear this time?"
