"No; there's no such name here."
For a moment Wilton felt annihilated.
"She used to live here?"
"P'r'aps so; we've not been here above a week, and I wish we was out of it."
"And do you know where Mrs. Kershaw is gone?"
"No, that I don't."
After a little talking, she suggested that "missus" might know; but that potentate, on being appealed to, confessed ignorance, stating, however, that "master" might know; but "master" was absent, and would not be back till to-morrow morning. More Wilton could not extract; and he most reluctantly left the long-sought villa, informing the inmates that he would call next day, hoping that "master" might be able to supply the desired information.
Still, with unshaken perseverance, Wilton lingered about. He stopped the postman, but he had had no letter since the new people moved in for Mrs. Kershaw. She had very few letters at any time—still she had some. There was another postman that took the noonday delivery, he might know. When did he go round? Oh, from twelve to twelve-thirty. He might know, and he mightn't. Addresses were not given to the letter-carriers, but left at the district office.
"Ah! then I may probably find this Mrs. Kershaw's whereabouts at the post-office?"