“It looks like it. But I say, missus,” whispered Wrench, in a confidential tone, “you might be a little more candid.”
“Oh, bother! What’s that you’d be afther saying? Do you think I’d kape onything from the likes o’ ye?”
“I hope not.”
“Whist! aisy now. Jist come here. Aye that’s it. Well, thin, you mustn’t go a screamin’ and a roarin’ all over the town.”
“Dear me, of course not. Go on, Biddy.”
“Well, then, a few nights ago there was a strange chap whom nobody seemed to know came here for a night’s lodging. Well, Wrinch, be the powers, but I must spake my mind to an ould frind, the vagabond couldn’t slape, so some of the bhoys tould me, and kept tossin’ about and a sighin’ and a groanin’ all night. In the morning he was off, never sayin’ nothink to nobody.”
“And his appearance was it anything like the description I read to you?”
“Faith, it was—so Pat Murphy said.”
“And who is Pat Murphy?”
“He’s just one of the boys, one of the regular customers. Begorra he’s as good as goold is Pat.”