“Yees, I moind that.”
“And I dare say you heard her say the child was not her own,—that she was paid well for it, eh?”
“Noa; my missus did not loike me to chaffer much with neighbour Joplin, for she was but a bad ‘un,—pretty fease, too. She lived agin the wogh [Anglice, wall] yonder, where you see that gent coming out.”
“Oho! that is the gent who was asking after Mrs. Joplin?”
“Yes; and he giv’ me half-a-croon!” said the clever hostler, holding out his hand.
Mr. Grabman, too thoughtful, too jealous of his rival, to take the hint at that moment, darted off, as fast as his thin legs could carry him, towards the unwelcome interferer in his own business.
Approaching the gentleman,—a tall, powerful-looking young man,—he somewhat softened his tone, and mechanically touched his hat as he said,—
“What, sir, are you, too, in search of Mrs. Joplin?”
“Sir, I am,” answered the young man, eying Grabman deliberately; “and you, I suppose, are the person I have found before me on the same search,—first at Liverpool; next at C——, about fifteen miles from that town; thirdly, at I——; and now we meet here. You have had the start of me. What have you learned?”
Mr. Grabman smiled. “Softly, sir, softly. May I first ask—since open questioning seems the order of the day—whether I have the honour to address a brother practitioner,—one of the law, sir, one of the law?”