He felt that he
might just as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. In other words,
having been caught down town without leave, he might as well stay
there and enjoy himself a little while longer before going back to be
executed. So he strolled off down the High Street, bought a few things
at a stationer's, and wound up with an excellent tea at the
confectioner's by the post-office.
It was as he was going to this meal that Kennedy caught sight of him.
Kennedy had come down town to visit the local photographer, to whom he
had entrusted a fortnight before the pleasant task of taking his
photograph. As he had heard nothing from him since, he was now coming
to investigate. He entered the High Street as Wren was turning into
the confectioner's, saw him, and made a note of it for future
reference.
When Wren returned to the house just before lock-up, he sought counsel
of Walton.
"I say," he said, as he handed over the honey he had saved so neatly
from destruction, "what would you do? Just as I was coming out of the
shop, I barged into Fenn. He must have twigged me."
"Didn't he say anything?"
"Not a word. I couldn't make it out, because he must have seen me. We
weren't a yard away from one another."
"It's dark in the shop," suggested Walton.
"Not at the door; which is where we met."
Before Walton could find anything to say in reply to this, their
conversation was interrupted by Spencer.
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