Leveson held up both his hands as if to beg a moment to answer.
"They come from Brooklyn. I don't know their names. I think neither is married."
"I have a curiosity about things," explained Weil to his friends, "that I cannot account for. You remember how Silas Wegg used to talk about 'Aunt Jane' and 'Uncle Parker.' Well, I have the same way of studying the men that wander in here of an evening, with other people's wives and daughters. There is so little really entertaining in this confounded world that I seize upon anything promising a change with avidity. Isaac tells me all the secrets of his queer ranch, and they prove wonderfully interesting, sometimes. You see," he added, addressing himself particularly to Roseleaf, "not a couple comes into this place that would like to have it known."
Roseleaf bowed constrainedly.
"And how does Mr. Leveson know them?" he inquired. "They surely do not register, or if they do their names must be fictitious."
Mr. Weil laughed.
"He has ways of finding out," said he. "There are little birds that fly in at the window and tell him."
"I should not think he would wish to know," commented Roseleaf. "Especially when it is evident they would not like to have him."
Archie laughed again.
"Let me explain, then," he said. "I need not mind Boggs here, who is discretion itself. Leveson's reason—of course, I can rely on your silence?"