"Tell me as we go along," he said.
"No," she answered, "you must see for yourself."
"Don't walk so fast, then. We must not attract attention."
There were only two or three loungers in Catchpole Square. Now that Samuel Boyd was buried the general interest in the house had waned, and public attention was chiefly devoted to the proceedings in the Coroner's Court, in consequence of which there had been intervals during this day when the Square was bare of sight-seers. The two or three idle persons who were staring aimlessly at the walls as Dick and Gracie came near regarded the appearance of the new-comers as an agreeable diversion, and gazed at them instead.
"Now, Gracie, what is it?" asked Dick.
She cast a sharp glance at a little iron gate at the side of the next house to Samuel Boyd's, and replied, "Not while they're here, Dick. Stare them out."
Nothing loth, Dick stared so sternly at the idlers that they became nervous, shifted their gaze, to see him still staring at them when they looked at him again, made awkward movements, and finally strolled away, and left the Square to him and Gracie.
"Let's talk inside the house," she said, with a nod of approval.
"No, Gracie, here. I don't care about taking you in."
"I've been in," she said calmly.