"Over a fortnight ago," said the boy, counting on his fingers, and apparently not very sure as to his dates. "On a Thursday that was. She took the chop in as usual. On Saturday I brought a steak late--somewhere about six--so that it might be quite fresh for Sunday, and she wasn't in. Ain't seen her since. Say, mister, if y' know her, say as master 'ull charge her for the meat. It's her own fault she ain't eaten it."
"Why didn't she leave a servant in charge?"
"Too poor," said the boy, taking the shilling and spitting on it for luck. "She always did the housework herself. But she was a real lady for all that. Say, mister"--the boy stared--"nothing ain't gone wrong with her?"
"No. I merely called to see her."
"Well, she ain't at home as I can see. There ain't no smoke coming from the chimney, though to be sure she may be saving the coals. I thought the miser might have done away with her. He's an old rip as ought to be in gaol. I saw him making eyes at her."
"Ah! Then Mrs. Brand is a pretty woman?"
"Yes, in a kind of delicate sort of way. Brown hair and blue eyes and pale and little. Looked like a widder," said the boy confidentially, "but she wasn't. Bless you, no! Her husband's a commercial gent as comes home every now and then. But he's away for the most part of the time."
"Have you ever seen him?"
"In the dark I did. A tall gent. But I can't tell you his looks."
"You are a smart boy," said Derrick, taking out his note-book. "I should like to see more of you."