"Practically, no," replied Copplestone.
Sir Cresswell tapped him on the shoulder.
"I want you to do me a favour," he said. "I shall take it as a kindness
if you will. I don't want to talk about certain ideas which Petherton and
I have about this affair, yet, anyway--not even to you--but we _have_
formed some ideas this afternoon. Now, do you think you could manage to
stay where you are for a week or two?"
"Here?" exclaimed Copplestone.
"This seems very comfortable," said Sir Cresswell, looking round. "The
landlady is a nice, motherly person; she gave me a very well-cooked
lunch; this is a quiet room in which to do your writing, eh?"
"Of course I can stay here," answered Copplestone, who was a good deal
bewildered. "But--mayn't I know why--and in what capacity?"
"Just to keep your eyes and your ears open," said Sir Cresswell. "Don't
seem to make inquiries--in fact, don't make any inquiry--do nothing. I
don't want you to do any private detective work--not I! Just stop here
a bit--amuse yourself--write--read--and watch things quietly. And--don't
be cross--I've an elderly man's privilege, you know--you'll send your
bills to me."
"Oh, that's all right, thanks!" said Copplestone, hurriedly. "I'm pretty
well off as regards this world's goods."
"So I guessed when I found that you lived in the expensive atmosphere of
Jermyn Street," said Sir Cresswell, with a sly laugh.
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