“But you can find him—I am sure you can if you set about the task with a free goodwill.”
“Ask Lorrie Stanbridge. She is the person to apply to. Alf, to the best of my belief, is abroad. He has left his country for his country’s good, that is all I know about the matter.”
“He did leave England, but he has returned—he must have returned by this time. You can aid me. Oh, Mr. Rawton, you are kindly disposed, are not sunk so low, but have, I am certain, some good left in your disposition. I am a friend of Mrs. Bourne’s, and she speaks of you as a man who is——”
“Who is what?” cried Bill, with sudden vehemence, and interrupting the speaker. “As what? Mrs. Bourne!—do you know her?”
“Yes. Have known her for many years.”
“I never heard that—Mrs. Bourne, eh?”
“Yes, the widow of Dr. Bourne. He who committed suicide.”
“I know. There is no occasion for you to tell me about that. I know the whole history of his crime, and his end.”
“You acted fair enough towards her.”
“Well, what of that? Who says I didn’t?” cried the gipsy, evidently moved.