“Could you find it?—Great Cumberland Place, I mean?”
“Certainly.”
“I wish you would. I should be so grateful.”
The gray eyes became more pathetic.
“Grateful to me—would you, miss? I’ll go with you and very glad to do it.”
The old gentleman took Rosamund home and talked to her on the way. When they parted she asked for his name and address. He hesitated for a moment and then gave it: “Mr. Thrush, 2 Albingdon Buildings, John’s Court, near Edgware Road.”
“Thank you. You’ve done me a good turn.”
At this moment the front door was opened by the housemaid.
“Oh—miss!” she said.
Her eyes left Rosamund and fastened themselves, like weapons, on the old gentleman’s nose. He lifted his desperado of a hat and immediately turned away, trying to conceal his jug under his left arm, but inadvertently letting it protrude.