Presently a pretty little woman, leading a baby by the hand, came up to her.
“Pray, do you want anything? I am the wife of the manager.”
“Yes, ma’am. I want a little information—at least, there’s another that does. Did you ever happen to hear of a Mr. Heigham?”
“Mr. Heigham? Indeed, yes; I know him well. He was here a few minutes since.”
“Then perhaps, ma’am, you can tell me if he is married to a Mrs. Carr that lives on this island?”
“Not that I know of,” she answered, with a little smile; “but there is a good deal of talk about them—people say that, though they are not married, they ought to be, you know.”
“That’s the best bit of news I have heard for many a day. As for the talk, I don’t pay no manner of heed to that. If he ain’t married to her, he won’t marry her now, I’ll go bail. Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
At that moment they were interrupted by the entrance of a little ragged boy into the hall, who timidly held out a card to the lady to whom Pigott was talking.
“Do you want to find Mr. Heigham?” she said. “Because if so, this boy will show you where he is. He has sent here for a paper that he left. I found it on the verandah just now, and wondered what it was. Perhaps you would take it to him if you go. I don’t like trusting this boy—as likely as not he will lose it.”
“That will just suit. Just you tell the boy to wait while I fetch my young lady, and we will go with him. Is this the paper? And in her writing, too! Well, I never! There, I’ll be back in no time.”