"No, sah, dat party don' live yere. An' ef he don' stop hangin' 'round yere, somethin's gwine t' happen to dat man," he robustly asserted.
"What's he after?"
"I dunno. I only seen him twicet. Las' time he was sneakin' fum de top flo'. But I cert'n'y don' like dat man's looks!"
Nothing more was to be learned from Sam. Laurie thoughtfully walked out into the square. He had taken not more than a dozen steps when a voice, strange yet unpleasantly familiar, accosted him.
"Good-evening, Mr. Devon," it said.
Laurie turned sharply. Herbert Ransome Shaw was walking at his side, which was as it should be. It was to meet and talk with Herbert Ransome Shaw that he had so abruptly ended his call.
"Look here," he said at once, "I want a few words with you."
"Exactly." Shaw spoke with suave affability. "It is to have a few words that I am here."
"Where can we go?"
Shaw appeared to reflect.