You see, he ain't a big sort o' chap at best, and
he'd be pretty easy put upon--at least, I guess so."
"Very good, so much the better, for then he won't have been damaged, and
they will probably only have one man to guard him. Now the carriage,
please."
Young Kentish was a six-foot sergeant of grenadiers home on furlough, and
luxuriating in plain clothes. He and Hewitt walked a little way toward the
town, allowing the landau to catch them up. They traveled in it to within
a hundred yards of the empty shops and then alighted, bidding the driver
wait.
"I shall show you three empty shops," Hewitt said, as he and young Kentish
walked down Granville Road. "I am pretty sure that Sammy Crockett is in
one of them, and I am pretty sure that that is the middle one. Take a look
as we go past."
When the shops had been slowly passed, Hewitt resumed: "Now, did you see
anything about those shops that told a tale of any sort?"
"No," Sergeant Kentish replied. "I can't say I noticed anything beyond the
fact that they were empty--and likely to stay so, I should think.
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