“Alone?”
“Quite alone, sir. On the Wednesday afternoon Dr. Pitt came to see him, and that same evening a young man called, who stayed some time; Scott, I think the name was; but nobody at all came yesterday.”
“And you do not know where Mr. Bevere is?—where he went to?”
“Why no, sir; he didn’t say. The cab might have taken him to one of the railway-stations, for all I can tell. I did not ask questions. Of course it is not pleasant for a lodger to leave you in that sudden manner, before he has well been three days in the house,” added Mrs. Long, feelingly, “especially with the neighbours staring out on all sides, and I might have asked him for another week’s rent in lieu of proper notice; but I couldn’t be hard with a well-mannered, pleasant young gentleman like Mr. Bevere—and with his connections, too. I’m sure when her ladyship came here to fix on the rooms, she was that kind and affable with me I shall never forget it—and talked to me so lovingly about him—and put half-a-crown into Sarah’s hand when she left! No, sir, I couldn’t be hard upon young Mr. Bevere.”
Mrs. Long had told all she knew, and I wished her good-day. Where to now? I deliberated, as I stood on the doorstep. This sudden flight looked as though Roger wanted to avoid people. If any one was in the secret of it, it would be Richard Scott, I thought; and I turned my steps to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.
I suppose I interrupted Scott at some critical performance, for he came to me with his coat-cuffs turned up and no wristbands on.
“Glad to see you, I’m sure,” cried he; “thought it might be an out-patient. Bevere?—oh, do you want him?” he ran on, not giving himself time to understand me perfectly, or pretending at it. “Bevere is at his new lodgings near Russell Square. He will not be back here until next week.”
“But he is not at his new lodgings,” I said. “He has left them.”
“Left!” cried Scott, staring.