"But he's gorn, I tell you, ma'am," said the voice of Mr. Glew despairingly. "Ran in here, he did, a quarter of an hour ago: out again in five minutes——"
"I think you are prevaricating, Glew," said the acid tones of Mrs. Peters. "Your manner is not straightforward at all this morning——"
"And we shan't be satisfied till you have shown us his room," added Mrs. Hedderwick. "So there!"
As the landlord resumed the mournful chant, apparently relying on tautological emphasis rather than reasoned argument or ocular demonstration (a suggestion that seemed unwelcome), Henry Brown smiled and passed into the bar. Addressing the Boots, a "lad" of sixty-three, who acted as barman, beater, stable-boy, or butler as occasion or the seasons demanded, he said, "Is Miss Schmidt ready?"
"B'leeve so," said the Boots. "But I'll tell her you're here."
He went out, but returned shortly, followed by Mizzi, who was dressed for traveling. "Ah!" said she, with a radiant smile of welcome. "I have not kept you waiting long, have I?"
"Five days," answered Henry, to the astonishment of the Boots. "Five wasted days. Can't think why you wanted to stay here all that time. After being——"
He paused. He was about to say "sacked," but from consideration of his audience, refrained. Mizzi thanked him with a laugh.
"Ah!" she said very cheerfully. "The separation—shall we say?—was due to—guess!"
"Dunno," said Henry, watching her fasten her glove with admiring eyes.