Airley smiled grimly.
“A gentleman. Money makes gentlefolks.”
“Here you are, then,” she said, turning over the leaves to the West-end division of the book. “You can look out the name yourself.”
“No, I can’t,” he answered. “I can’t read.”
“Lord, man, you are behind the time o’ day!” said the woman. “Well, tell me the name agen and I’ll look it out for you.”
He repeated it slowly three times over:
“Massarene—Massarene—William Massarene.”
She whirled the leaves about for a few minutes, and then she said triumphantly:
“Here you are!
“William Massarene, M. P.; Harrenden House, Gloucester Gate; Carlton Club; Vale Royal, South Woldshire Cottesdale Grange, Salop; Blair Airon, Caithness, N. B.