“I am not offended with the gentleman, but he is to me a perfect stranger. That you must admit. And—well, to speak plainly, he is a little peculiar for a stranger.”
“I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear madam,” said Shearman. “I will not offend in a like manner again.”
“I have already told you, sir, that I am not offended. Let that suffice.”
“Let it suffice also for the present,” observed Shearman, “that as time goes on you will be able to discover the reason for my query, which, as I before observed, was not made out of idle curiosity.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Bourne.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” said the doctor’s wife, as she saw her two visitors to the door.
“Now, Shearman,” ejaculated Wrench, when they had got some little distance from the house, “you have your duty to perform and I have mine. In the first place, I must see and find my man.”
“Certainly, by all means; the sooner the better, say I. Am I in your way?”
“By no means. I shall be glad of your company, if you’ve nothing better to do.”
“I’ve nothing to do at all just at present.”