"An' what may you want wid me?"
"I want you to take me to a man who is staying here. I know his name, but I was to ask for a man with a big scar on his face."
"I wasn't to tell anybody who didn't give the word."
"Ah, ah! I see. 'Mum' is the word."
"Faith, ye've got it! 'Mum' is the word an' no mistake."
I had stumbled on the right word. The combination had opened the lock.
"Well, take me to him as quick as you can."
"It isn't a him: it's a she. He's gone, he has, this morning."
"Well, take me to her, then. I'm a friend."
I slipped a shilling into his hand, and he led the way, muttering, "You're a gintleman."