‘Well’ said Tom Pinch, ‘I don’t know where you can go, John, to be more comfortable. That’s all I can say. What do you say, Ruth?’
Ruth trifled with the cherries on her plate, and said that she thought Mr Westlock ought to be quite happy, and that she had no doubt he was.
Ah, foolish, panting, frightened little heart, how timidly she said it!
‘But you are forgetting what you had to tell, Tom; what occurred this morning,’ she added in the same breath.
‘So I am,’ said Tom. ‘We have been so talkative on other topics that I declare I have not had time to think of it. I’ll tell it you at once, John, in case I should forget it altogether.’
On Tom’s relating what had passed upon the wharf, his friend was very much surprised, and took such a great interest in the narrative as Tom could not quite understand. He believed he knew the old lady whose acquaintance they had made, he said; and that he might venture to say, from their description of her, that her name was Gamp. But of what nature the communication could have been which Tom had borne so unexpectedly; why its delivery had been entrusted to him; how it happened that the parties were involved together; and what secret lay at the bottom of the whole affair; perplexed him very much. Tom had been sure of his taking some interest in the matter; but was not prepared for the strong interest he showed. It held John Westlock to the subject even after Ruth had left the room; and evidently made him anxious to pursue it further than as a mere subject of conversation.
‘I shall remonstrate with my landlord, of course,’ said Tom; ‘though he is a very singular secret sort of man, and not likely to afford me much satisfaction; even if he knew what was in the letter.’
‘Which you may swear he did,’ John interposed.
‘You think so?’
‘I am certain of it.’