“I suppose the young man had everything done for him that could be? Care?—and nourishment?—and necessary attendance?”
“Surely, sir. Why not? Mr. Pitt took care of that, I suppose.”
“Ay. Well, it was a grievous end. Good-morning, ma’am.”
“Good-day to you, gentlemen.”
The Squire went looming up the street in the dumps; his hands in his pockets, his steps slow.
“I suppose, Johnny, if one tried to get at Pitt in this vast London city, it would be like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay.”
“We have no clue to him, sir.”
“No. And I don’t know that it would answer any purpose if we did get at him. He could only confirm what we’ve heard. Well, this is fine news to take back to poor Annet Radcliffe!”
“I should think she had better not be told, sir.”