"Why, I was pointed out by everybody as Miss Houston of Houston Street. I was a landmark; a sight."
"Yes," said Pinac unconsciously. "You were; and you are still."
Miss Husted looked at him sharply. "Was he venturing to laugh at her?" she thought. But his sad face belied any such intention.
"How things have changed?" went on Miss Husted tremulously. "There's not a child in this neighbourhood that can afford to pay for his lesson! And when they can't afford it, he won't take the money! He gives away the very bread out of his mouth."
Pinac and Fico shifted uncomfortably.
"Everything he had of value has gone long ago. Do you remember that beautiful violin?"
"Ah, yes! his Amati. Yes, yes! He bought instead a cheap one. I wondered why, but did not ask him."
"And still he pays me. Where does he get it?" asked Miss Husted tearfully. "What is he doing out every night, nearly all night?"
The men looked at each other; this was another revelation. They were out at night themselves and so did not know of his absence.
"There's something done up to go to pawn now," said Miss Husted, pointing to a box wrapped up in a paper on the piano. It was Von Barwig's case of pistols. Pinac and Fico looked at each other in astonishment.