"Oh, do let me go and find that gentleman, for Mrs. De Vrai. If you only knew what a good lady she is now, now she don't drink any more. But I am afraid she won't live very long. She has got a dreadful cough. And she was worse last night, for she saw somebody in the street yesterday—some man—a bad man—I believe they are all bad—no, no, I don't mean all—but a good many of them."
"I am glad that the sight of bad men in the street, don't make every lady sick who sees one; if it did we might turn the whole city into a general hospital. But what about that man?"
"I don't know what, but she was dreadful 'fraid of him, and that he would come where she lives."
"So he did, but he will not come again, soon."
"Then you know him, too?"
"Yes. And that is not all I know. I know you left Mrs. De Vrai's last night about half-past nine o'clock, on your way home; that soon after you started you were overtaken by a stout-built gentleman, with black hair and black whiskers, who said, 'Good evening, Miss, how did you leave Mrs. De Vrai, this evening?'"
"Mercy on me, his exact words. Did you hear them? I am sure I did not see anybody else near us at the time."
"No, I did not hear him—was not in that part of the city."
"He has told you then. I am sure I never did."
"No, neither have told me."