However, I examined them with every appearance
of pleasure, thanked Jock effusively and even gave him a sixpence, and at
last bade him good-day and started for home.
It had been a queer little episode, and had I been in my usual
clue-hunting humour I should no doubt have dissected it carefully--and
then abused myself for being a fanciful fool. But this afternoon I had
too much else to think of and the incident passed out of my mind in
the meantime.
At tea I prepared the doctor for the possibility of my going out at night
by a long-winded, babbling, and entirely fictitious account of Bolton's
morning call, from which it appeared that Mr. Bolton was so interested in
Mr. Hobhouse's account of how he saw the ship blow up that he would
probably call in the evening to verify certain particulars and might even
want Mr. Hobhouse to come with him to the house where he was lodging.
And then after tea I smoked and read and waited.
Darkness was beginning to fall when we finished tea that night and the
lamps were lit when we went into the smoking room. At any moment the
summons might come, and yet eight o'clock struck, and nine, and ten, and
I even induced the doctor to sit up till after eleven, but still there
was no sign of Bolton. And then at last I said some severe things to
myself about the man, and we went to bed.
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