“Well, if you know it was that night, you know, Misses Brown,” replied Rob, “it’s no use putting pinchers into a cove to make him say so.
“Where did they go that night, Rob? Straight away? How did they go? Where did you see her? Did she laugh? Did she cry? Tell me all about it,” cried the old hag, holding him closer yet, patting the hand that was drawn through his arm against her other hand, and searching every line in his face with her bleared eyes. “Come! Begin! I want to be told all about it. What, Rob, boy! You and me can keep a secret together, eh? We’ve done so before now. Where did they go first, Rob?”
The wretched Grinder made a gasp, and a pause.
“Are you dumb?” said the old woman, angrily.
“Lord, Misses Brown, no! You expect a cove to be a flash of lightning. I wish I was the electric fluency,” muttered the bewildered Grinder. “I’d have a shock at somebody, that would settle their business.”
“What do you say?” asked the old woman, with a grin.
“I’m wishing my love to you, Misses Brown,” returned the false Rob, seeking consolation in the glass. “Where did they go to first was it? Him and her, do you mean?”
“Ah!” said the old woman, eagerly. “Them two.”
“Why, they didn’t go nowhere—not together, I mean,” answered Rob.
The old woman looked at him, as though she had a strong impulse upon her to make another clutch at his head and throat, but was restrained by a certain dogged mystery in his face.