"Your bag has gone up, sir. Shall I show you your room?"
"Thank you. By the way, what is your name?"
"Betty, sir. Betty Blake."
"Very pretty name, too." He motioned her to precede him up the stairs. "Been with Mrs. Varr long?"
"About four months, sir."
"Are you a Hambleton girl?"
"Yes, sir, born and bred."
The room assigned to him was one of the best in the house. It was next to Miss Ocky's own, he was to discover later, and like hers it had a small rounded balcony outside the tall windows. He glanced about him appreciatively. He could rough it with any man, but he vastly preferred to be comfortable. Here he would be, if his eye didn't deceive him.
"Native, eh?" he continued conversationally as the girl made to leave him. "Then you must know every one in these parts. For instance—do you know a young man called Maxon?"
"Charlie Maxon?" She tossed her head. "Yes, I know him!" Her accent was richly scornful. "Pity they couldn't keep him in jail!"