Lenox had quickly scribbled out a message and an address, and he handed these to the boots along with a large tip, in addition to the money it would cost to send the telegram. Admonishingly, he instructed the boy not to lose it or to tarry on his way to the post office. Thinking it over, he took back the tip and promised to hold it until the lad returned with a receipt. Perhaps this wasn’t the most trusting thing to do, but Lenox remembered what he had been like at thirteen.

“To whom did you write?” asked McConnell, who was looking slightly ill again.

“Dallington.”

“Telling him?”

“Asking him for information, primarily. Also telling him to keep an eye on matters there.” Lenox looked at his pocket watch. “I wish I had time to wait for a reply, but I’m afraid I’m scheduled to speak soon. Excuse me, will you?”

“Where?” asked McConnell.

He received no reply, though, for Lenox had already walked up to Crook at the bar for a brief consultation. Either Crook or Hilary had introduced him before all of his speeches so far, but Hilary was gone, and Crook was working; another member of the Liberal committee, Sandy Smith, was going to meet Lenox at his first speech and accompany him for the rest of the day.

“I must go,” Lenox said to McConnell. “I’ll see you for supper?”

“Can’t I tag along and help you campaign?”

“Tomorrow, certainly-but have another afternoon of rest, won’t you?”

McConnell still looked disheveled, and Lenox, though he had never been embarrassed by a friend before, felt he couldn’t march around Stirrington with the doctor now. How politics had already changed him! It wasn’t clear whether McConnell understood Lenox’s motives, but without any further protest he agreed to spend the afternoon on his own.

Lenox’s mind fairly swarmed with ideas. It would have been useful, in fact, to ask McConnell to look at Hiram Smalls’s body, but now the doctor was here; still, work might be the best thing for him. If there was any possibility of foul play, Lenox might ask him to return.