"But—excuse me—Miss Plinlimmon—Agatha? Arabella? I forget for the moment her Christian name—"
"Amelia, sir."
"To be sure; Amelia. Well, she could not be a foundling, nor—as I remember her—did she in the least resemble one."
"Oh no, sir: she is the matron there."
"I see. And where is this hospital?"
"At Plymouth Dock."
"Hey?"
"At Plymouth Dock. A Mr. Scougall keeps it—a sort of clergyman."
"This is most strange. My friend Arthur's son, young Archibald Plinlimmon, is quartered with his regiment there, and often pays us a visit, poor lad."
"Indeed, sir?"