"Pray, madam," said he, "tell me your trouble; what is the matter?" But the woman only wrung her hands together, and stared with great, frightened eyes at the colorless man, who now advanced, smiling still, and tapped Barnabas smartly on the shoulder.
"The trouble is her own, sir, the matter is—entirely a private one," said he, fixing Barnabas with his pale stare, "I repeat, sir,—a private one. May I, therefore, suggest that you withdraw—at once?"
"As often as you please, sir," retorted Barnabas, bowing.
"Ah!" sighed the man, thrusting out his head again, "and what do you want—here?"
"First, is your name Jasper Gaunt?"
"No; but it is as well known as his—better to a great many."
"And your name is—?"
"Quigly."
"Then, Mr. Quigly, pray be seated while I learn this poor creature's sorrow."
"I think—yes, I think you'd better go," said Mr. Quigly,—"ah, yes—and at once, or—"