“Of course. It’s a little out of the way, but not enough to matter. Why do you want to see him?”
“I want to see her, if there is a her.”
“There is. His wife, Mrs. Doggett, is a dear old thing. If you want to get something out of her, you’d better leave it to me. I’ve known her all my life.”
“I do. I want her to deal kindly with our friend, the tramp, for one thing.”
He told her the story of the purse and then showed her the red cap the man had given him and explained its significance.
“Mrs. Doggett will be all right; I’ll manage her. But the cap is important, Uncle Fayre! I’m glad you went!”
“So am I, now. You were quite right and it’s decent of you not to rub it in!”
He waited while Cynthia went into the Lodge. After a short interval she came out, followed by a pleasant-looking old woman.
“This is Mrs. Doggett,” she said. “Mr. Fayre’s a great friend of mine, Mrs. Doggett, so you must be kind to him.”
Mrs. Doggett’s answer was a broad smile and an old-fashioned curtsey.