Jack was reflecting how much Trent had paid by way of impressing his advice. He took out a sovereign, and saw that she saw it.
“There’s no chance of that any longer, I give you my word,” he said. “I’m afraid the name of the place won’t go far towards finding him, but I should like to have it.”
She hesitated. Ibbetson kicked a stone under his feet.
“You’re sure I shan’t get into trouble?”
“Certain.”
“You don’t look like one to deceive. Well, it was Worthing, as he spoke of.”
“Any street?”
“No, only somewhere near a church. But that gentleman couldn’t find him there.”
“Thank you. That doesn’t at all signify. I’m very much obliged to you, and I hope, after taking up your time, you’ll allow me to offer you this very small remuneration.”
Jack said it with his finest manner, and the woman was delighted—more even with the manner than the sovereign. Then he rejoined Clive, who was waiting for him.