“Robinson’s my name, if that’s anny use to ye.”
“Very well, Mrs. Robinson. We wish to have a word with Mr. Corbett, and we will be much obliged if you can tell us when he is likely to return, if he is in London.”
“Arrah, it’s meself is mixed intirely about him. Sure this Mr. Corbett is in London right enough, and is comin’ in to dinner in half-an-hour, so by yer lave I’ll jist go on wid me wurruk.”
“May we come in and wait for him?”
Mrs. Robinson surveyed them suspiciously, but seemingly decided in their favor.
“Stip in here, gintlemen both,” she said, and conducted them to the sitting-room.
A fire now burned brightly in the grate wherein Bruce had made his pregnant discovery. The damaged bracket still stared at White, so to speak, but he saw it not.
Mrs. Robinson bustled away to the kitchen, and the two officers sat silently waiting developments. Suddenly a thought occurred to White, and he went into the passage.
“Mrs. Robinson,” he said, “what did you mean by referring to this Mr. Corbett?”