All the others beat it off immediately in different directions--
looking for Bancroft Road, I expect. I had an idea that more
finesse would be needed. I started off with the others, then
pretended I had left my pipe, and came back to the Boar. I was
going to look up the town directory, to find Kathleen's name--
knowing the address, that would be easy. But there was Goblin
doing the same thing! We both laughed and looked it up together.
The name at 318, Bancroft Road was Kent, Philip Kent, F.S.A.,
Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, I suppose: the book put him
down as an "antiquarian." Kathleen's father, evidently.

Goblin disappeared in that noiseless way of his, and I lit a pipe
and pondered.

The fellows had been full of wild suggestions as to what they
would do when they got to 318, Bancroft Road. One was going to be
a book agent and get into the house that way. Another said he
would be the grocer's man and make friends with the cook. Someone
else suggested dressing up as a plumber or gas-man, and going
there to fix some imaginary leak. Knowing that the Kents were not
fools, I imagined it wouldn't be long before they'd get wise to
the fact that that bunch of dreadnoughts was picketing the house.
Probably they'd put the police on them. Also, there's nobody
harder to disguise than an English 'varsity man. He gives himself
away at every turn. If "Fred" was around he'd be sure to smell a
rat. One of those chaps would be likely to fake himself up as a
plumber, and get in the house on some pretext or other--still
wearing his wrist-watch!