"To no man has he made it up," corrected Gollop. "'Tis only in the case of certain needy females that he've come forward. A widow here and there have been paid back in full. I made so bold as to ask Lawyer Popham about it; but he's not a very civil man, and he fobbed me off with a lawyer's answer that meant nought."
"'Tis well knowed to be Masterman, however," said Voysey.
"Yes; well knowed to us; but not to the general public. Some think it's the lawyer himself; but that's a wild saying. Last thing he'd do. He'll be out of pocket as it is."
At this juncture was presented the unusual spectacle of a woman in the bar of 'The White Thorn,' and Susan Hacker entered.
She was known to several present and men liked her. She understood the sex, and could give as good as she got. She expected little in the way of civility or sense from them, and she was seldom disappointed.
"Hullo!" cried Head. "Be you on the downward path then, Susan? 'Tis your old man driving you to drink without a doubt!"
The abundant woman pushed Jack out of her way and came to the counter.
"Don't you pay no heed to that there sauce-box," she said. "And him old enough and ugly enough to know better, you'd think. A drop of gin hot, please. I be finger-cold and I've got to speed home yet."
"How's 'the Hawk'?" asked Mr. Voysey. "We all thought when poor old Nathan was took off that he'd come forward with his money bags—knowing the man, didn't we, souls?"
This excellent jest awakened laughter till Susan stopped it. She took her drink to the fire, loosed a mangy little fur tippet from her great shoulders and warmed her feet alternately.