“I’ll take a penn’orth, then. I suppose you don’t know when the gentleman upstairs will be back?”
The boy stopped short in his occupation and stared at Sam.
“What gentleman?” he asked.
“Mr Medlock, is it? or Reginald, or some name like that?”
“Oh yus, I do!” said the boy, with a grin.
“When?”
“Six months all but a day. That’s what I reckon.”
“Six months! Has he gone away, then?”
“Oh no—he was took off.”
“Took off—you don’t mean to say he’s dead?”