“Didn’t you find it?” asked the woman.
“O, yes,” I replied, “but I didn’t find what I was looking for. I heard that a servant was wanted in one of the houses, and I have forgotten the number.”
“There’s a house in the Square,” said the woman, “where they want a servant bad, but they can’t get one to stop.”
“What’s the number?” I asked.
“No. 118,” the woman answered. “Next to—but perhaps you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” I inquired.
“That it’s next door to the house where a murder was committed,” she said.
“What is that to me?” I said. “I didn’t do it.”
The woman looked at me admiringly. “Well,” she said, “you’ve got a nerve! And you don’t look it, neither. You look delicate.”