"Will you give this to Mr. Joses?" she said.
The woman's apron was to her lips, and over it her frightened eyes peered at the girl.
"He's gone, Miss," she said.
The girl was surprised.
"Gone?" she said. "Where?"
The woman nibbled her apron.
"An hour since. The police come for him. I was makin' the tea."
That strange tide of Other-Consciousness overwhelmed the girl.
"Are you fond of him?" asked the Voice that used her as an instrument.
The woman with the streaming eyes nodded over her apron.