“Sure and sartin', Prince, of course. I knew 'twas connected with the royal family. Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help me nor him out this time. I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow lady from down the Cape. She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and she's come to Boston durin' the last day or so. I thought likely he might know where she was, that's all. That would be a little out of your latitude, hey?”
“I don't know. Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?”
Captain Nat started. “It certainly was,” he answered eagerly. “How'd you know that?”
Mr. Prince's complacence was superb. “Oh,” he answered with condescension, “Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his personal affairs.”
“I should think likely he would. But about Mrs. Coffin? You was goin' to say?”
“She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington Street. Mr. Stone found a place for her there, I believe. I—er—er—superintended the carrying of her valise and—What?”
“Nothin', nothin'. Hum! Hallett & Co., tailors? What number Washin'ton Street did you say?”
Mr. Prince gave the number.
“Thank you a lot,” said Captain Nat, with fervor. “Good-by, Mr. Prince. Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm. Good day, sir.”
“Good day. Nothing else I can do? And you won't wait for Mr. Stone? Very good. Is there any message for him that you would like to leave?”