“Can’t say as I do, sir.” The man examined his questioner with quick suspicion. The forgotten “season” dodge would not work with him.
“Maybe you remember these?” said Bruce, producing his cigar-case.
“Now, wot’s the gyme?” said the collector to himself. But he smiled, and answered: “Do you mean by the look of ’em, sir?”
“Good!” laughed Claude. “Take three or four home with you. Meanwhile I am sure you remember me coming to see you last November concerning a lady who alighted here from Victoria one foggy evening and handed you a ticket to Richmond?”
“Of course I do, sir. And the cigars are all right. There was a lot of fuss about that lydy. Did she ever turn up?”
“Not exactly. That is to say, she died shortly after you saw her.”
“No! Well, of all the rummy goes! She was a fine-looking woman, too, as well as I rec’llect. Looked fit for another fifty year. Wot ’appened to ’er.”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“An’ ’ave you been on the ’unt ever since, guv’nor?”