'But,' persisted Malkin, 'it's precisely my ill fortune to hit on those rare moments when people are out!—Now, I never meet acquaintances in the streets of London; but, if I happen to be abroad, as likely as not I encounter the last person I should expect to find. Why, you remember, I rush over to America for scarcely a week's stay, and there I come across a man who has disappeared astonishingly from the ken of all his friends!'
Christian looked at Marcella. She was leaning forward, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide as if in gaze at something that fascinated her. He saw that she spoke, but her voice was hardly to be recognised.
'Are you quite sure of that instance, Mr. Malkin?'
'Yes, I feel quite sure, Miss Moxey. Undoubtedly it was Peak!'
Buckland Warricombe, who had been waiting for a chance of escape, suddenly wore a look of interest. He rapidly surveyed the trio. Christian, somewhat out of countenance, tried to answer Malkin in a tone of light banter.
'It happens, my dear fellow, that Peak has not left England since we lost sight of him.'
'What? He has been heard of? Where is he then?'
'Mr. Warricombe can assure you that he has been living for a year at Exeter.'
Buckland, perceiving that he had at length come upon something important to his purposes, smiled genially.
'Yes, I have had the pleasure of seeing Peak down in Devon from time to time.'