"He does not hear you, sir," said Ann Hopley, advancing. "He's as deaf as a post, and can make out no voice but mine: especially when he has one of his sore throats upon him, as he has to-day. For my part, I think these bad throats have to do with the deafness. He is always getting them."
Stepping into the midst of the dust, she shook her husband by the arm somewhat roughly, and he raised his head with a start.
"Here, Hopley, just listen a minute," she screamed at the top of her voice. "This gentleman is asking you to tell him the name of the gentleman who is staying here--that's it, is it not, sir?"--and Mr. Strange nodded acquiescence. "The name, Hopley, the name."
"I've never see'd no lady here but the missis," said old Hopley at length, in his imperfect articulation, caused by the loss of his teeth, as he touched his broad-brimmed hat respectfully to the stranger, and looked up, leaning on the besom.
"Not a lady, Hopley; a gentleman," bawled Ann.
"I've see'd no gentleman here at all."
"He is rather stupid as to intellect, is he not?" cried the detective to the wife.
She resented the imputation. "Not at all, sir; no more than deaf people always seem to be."
"What gentleman be it?" asked Hopley. "Smith the agent comes for the rent at quarter-day, and Sir Karl Andinnian came over one morning about the well."
"Neither of those," roared out Mr. Strange. "The gentleman that's hiding here."