“Never mind the things,” said Ibbetson pleasantly. “I quite understand, as you say, that they’re not likely to be worth much. It’s Mr Smith himself that I’m anxious to find. Don’t you think he mentioned where he was going, and that it may have slipped your memory?”
“Oh, my memory is good enough I’m not of that age to be growing forgetful,” said the woman with a toss of her head. But she was evidently mollified.
“That’s exactly what I should have thought, only I couldn’t make it out; for I am sure when I go away for a day or two I always tell my landlady, and Mr Smith would probably have valued you sufficiently to do the same, so that I should have expected him to say something.”
“Well, sir, he did mention a name.”
“I was certain he would. But I dare say you naturally thought, when he didn’t make his appearance the next day or afterwards, that it was only intended to put you on a wrong scent?”
“Well, I don’t deny it. And you see, sir, they came bothering me so with questions, one young gentleman in particular, I’m sure fit to tear the place down; and there’s so many unpleasant things as happens on the papers, and my sister Mrs Walker, says she, ‘Mary Jane, don’t you go mixing yourself up with you don’t know what,’ and another gentleman as come, he as good as said the same.”
“Yes, I can quite understand,” said Ibbetson quietly. But he was really a good deal startled. “This other gentleman, I think I know him, tall, with a reddish face, and a soft voice?”
“Yes, sir,” said the woman, staring.
“Then you mentioned the name to him?”
“Well, I did. And he advised me, very serious like, not to let it out, particularly not to the young gentleman. There were unpleasantnesses about, and I might get into a good deal of trouble—that’s what he said, in his very words.”