"I don't think anything at all about it; I know. What d'you take me for? A Portugee cook? It's my business to know all about the Paysons, that's all. Very good."
Granthope looked more concerned, and eyed her suspiciously.
"There's only one way for you to have found that out," he said. "And that reminds me. I want to get those notes I gave you about her when you were up at my place. I didn't keep a copy, and I've forgotten some of the details that I need."
Madam Spoll raised her eyebrows, also her shoulders, and made an inarticulate noise in her throat. "Funny you need them so bad all of a sudden. Not that they done us much good—we've found out a lot for ourselves; about all we need for the present."
"Well, I haven't interfered with your game, and I don't see why you should interfere with mine. Only, I'd like those memoranda back, please." His tone was almost peremptory.
"I'm sorry, but I ain't got 'em."
"Where are they?"
"Why, I give 'em to Vixley."
Granthope saw that it was no use to go further. He had, in spite of his precautions, already aroused her suspicions, and so he pretended to consider the matter of no moment. Madam Spoll, however, was now thoroughly aroused.
"What I want to know, Frank, is whether you're with us or not."