“You know Mr Tempest pretty well?” said he.
“Rather; I’m his fag, you know.”
“A nice gentleman, I fancy. Pretty well off, eh?”
“Oh no. He’s a swell, but his people are poor, I know.”
“Oh, indeed. Not likely to buy much in my way, eh?”
“Rather not. He’s hard up as it is. It’s not much good your trying to sell him anything,” said I, remembering the rumour about my friend’s indebtedness, and anxious to screen him from further debt.
“Ah, indeed—he’s in debt, is he—all round?”
“How do you know that?” said I, bristling up. “I don’t expect he owes you anything.”
Mr Marple laughed.
“That’s just what he does; that’s why I’ve stepped over. I don’t like showing young gents up, but—”