"You talk like a book, sir."
"What was the nature of the flesh and blood that slipped through your fingers like a ghost, Applebee?"
"Human nature, sir. I'll take my oath it was a woman. I had her by the arm, and presto! she was gone!"
"A woman," said Dick, thinking of Mrs. Death. "Did she have a child with her, a poor little mite with a churchyard cough?"
"I don't call to mind a child. It was in Catchpole Square it happened. I shall report it."
"Of course you will," said Dick, convinced that it was Mrs. Death, but wondering why she should have been so anxious to escape. "Talking of Catchpole Square, have you seen anything this last day or two of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
"Haven't set eyes on him for a week past. To make sure, now--is it a week? No, it was Friday night that I saw him last. I can fix the time because a carriage pulled up at Deadman's Court, and a lady got out. She went through the court, followed by the footman."
"Did she stop long, do you know?"
"Couldn't have stopped very long. I hung about a bit, and when I come round again the carriage was driving away. All sorts of people deal with Samuel Boyd, poor and rich, high and low. That house of his could tell tales."
"So could most houses, Applebee."