"Because it is in your mind, my dear sir," he said.
"That is no answer."
"Is it not? I should have thought it would satisfy you, but you are inclined to be unreasonable. Come, now, I will show you how little I am concealing from you with respect to my knowledge of your movements." He shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked at me from beneath it.
"I do not know your name, nor in what part of London you reside, but certainly you and your wife--no doubt a most estimable lady--were sitting together at breakfast yesterday morning."
He paused, and waited for me to speak. "It is quite true," I said; "but there is nothing unusual in husband and wife partaking of that meal in company."
"Nothing in the least unusual if a man is master of his own time, as you were yesterday morning, for the first time for a long while past. The fact is, you had lost a situation in which you have been employed for years."
I sat spellbound. Devlin continued:
"The breakfast-things are on the table, and you and your lady are discussing ways and means. You are not rich, and you look forward with some fear to the future. Times are hard, and situations are not easy to obtain. In the midst of your consultation a man rushes into the room. He is a middle-aged man. Shall I describe him?"
"If you can," I said, my wonder growing.
He gave me a fairly faithful description of Mr. Melladew, and proceeded: