"Yes, sir," said both in chorus, and excited.
I had dined, and was languidly examining the interior of a tart, when the waiter entered again, announcing that "Bill was there, if I wanted him." "Show him in, by all means:" and Bill made his appearance, hat in hand, and stroking down his hair.
"Oh, good evening: your name is Bill, I understand, and I fancy you can tell me something I want to find out:—You drove a party from this hotel somewhere this morning, and I want to know their names: there was a little old lady, and a tall young one, with a short fat man, twinkling black eyes, eh! do you remember them?"
"Yes, I think I does," said Bill, slowly, as if confused by my rapid description, "fat short gen'lman, spoke thickish, I remember; called my horse a rough sketch—not filled up."
"Precisely; that's him, I am sure: what was the name?"
"Can't say, sir; I tuck 'em to the railway station: they was a-goin' to A——."
"How do you know?" "Why, as I was a-putting of the luggage into a truck at the station, a porter turns one of 'em up, and says—this is for A——, not Manchester: and puts it all into another truck; and then I just see a name beginning with a W, and that was all, as I'd to come back direct, for there's been a sight of work this week."
"Then none of you can tell me the name of that gentleman?"
"No, sir, they was quite strangers."