"The rent?" asked Dick.
"Would three-and-six a week be too much, sir?" she asked anxiously.
"Not a bit," replied Dick, "if you'll give me a latchkey."
"We can do that, sir. Pond had an extra one made on purpose. 'If it's a gentleman,' he said, 'let him have it. If it's a lady she can't have a latchkey, no, not if she begged for it on her bended knees."
"I'll take the room, Mrs. Pond," said Dick, with a genial smile, "and I'll give you a week's rent in advance, if it's only for the confidence you place in me."
Nervously plucking at her bib as she received the money, she displaced the handkerchief, which fluttered to the ground. Dick stooped to pick it up, and his face grew white as he saw, written in marking ink in a corner, the name of "Florence." He recognised Florence's writing; at that moment he had one at his breast, bearing the same inscription.
CHAPTER XV.
[DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.]
"Dear me, sir!" said Mrs. Pond, who had noticed that he had turned pale. "Are you taken ill?"
"It is nothing, nothing," replied Dick, hurriedly, and contradicted himself by adding, "It must be the perfume on this handkerchief. There are perfumes that make me feel faint."