"Rather. It was queer that you should be the doctor to see after that poor chap. I call him poor chap because he is dead," explained Miss Horley, "but I never did like that Moxton. A miserly, insulting crab-stick."
"Oh, so you knew Moxton?"
"Of course I did. He came here nearly every night. What is more, he took his wife from here."
Ellis was painfully excited. "Mrs. Moxton? Was she a music-hall singer?"
"Not she," replied Polly, disdainfully. "She hadn't the brains to sing. She typed for a living, I believe, but her sister was a programme-seller here."
"Janet Gordon?"
"Oh, you know her, Mr. Cass, do you?"
"No, I don't, but I have heard of her."
"Then I'll bet you heard nothing but good of her," cried Miss Horley, warmly. "That girl is as square a woman as ever lived. If it hadn't been for her, goodness knows what would have become of that silly little Laura."
"I don't call Mrs. Moxton silly," said the doctor, annoyed by this description.