But remember--he may not
have registered it under that name. He may, indeed, not have used his own
name--he's deep enough for anything. That however, is our next best
chance--search of the registers. Let's try it, anyway, first thing in the
morning. And as we've had a stiff day, I propose we dismiss all thought
of this affair for the rest of the evening and betake ourselves to some
place of amusement--theatre, eh?"
Copplestone made no objection to that, and when dinner was over, they
walked round to the principal theatre in time for the first act of a play
which having been highly successful in London had just started on a round
of the leading provincial theatres. Between the second and third acts of
this production there was a long interval, and the two companions
repaired to the foyer to recuperate their energies with a drink and a
cigarette. While thus engaged, Copplestone encountered an old school
friend with whom he exchanged a few words: Gilling, meanwhile strolled
about, inspecting the pictures, photographs and old playbills on the
walls of the saloon and its adjacent apartments. And suddenly, he turned
back, waited until Copplestone's acquaintance had gone away, and then
hurried up and smacked his co-searcher on the shoulder.
"Didn't I tell you that one's often close to a thing when one seems
furthest off it!" he exclaimed triumphantly.
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