“Business.”
“What, your own sort of business?”
Lal nodded.
“Whereabouts?”
“Oh, in the town.”
“Tell me where, old fellow—that is, if you don’t mind me meddling.”
“At the Sailors’ Arms; you know the place.”
“It’s a hell of a hole,” said Meryon, soberly. “Did you go in?”
“For a few minutes.”
“I say, it’s on the way from the Corn Exchange to the station. I say, do you think she could have seen you?”