‘Good evening, Miss Peecher,’ he said, pursuing the shadow, and taking its place.
‘Good evening, Mr Headstone. Mary Anne, a chair.’
‘Thank you,’ said Bradley, seating himself in his constrained manner. ‘This is but a flying visit. I have looked in, on my way, to ask a kindness of you as a neighbour.’
‘Did you say on your way, Mr Headstone?’ asked Miss Peecher.
‘On my way to—where I am going.’
‘Church Street, Smith Square, by Mill Bank,’ repeated Miss Peecher, in her own thoughts.
‘Charley Hexam has gone to get a book or two he wants, and will probably be back before me. As we leave my house empty, I took the liberty of telling him I would leave the key here. Would you kindly allow me to do so?’
‘Certainly, Mr Headstone. Going for an evening walk, sir?’
‘Partly for a walk, and partly for—on business.’
‘Business in Church Street, Smith Square, by Mill Bank,’ repeated Miss Peecher to herself.