“When was this?” eagerly asked Lady Oldfield.
“Yesterday.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said that he had been there several nights running with two regular cardsharpers, and they’d been drinking. She was sure it was him, though he had disguised himself a little.”
“And did you find him?”
“No; he hadn’t been there for the last two or three nights. Perhaps he had nothing to spend, for he came the last time in his shirt-sleeves; so she supposed he’d pawned his coat.”
“Well?”
“Well, I sent one of our men last night to see if he’d come again, but he never did.”
“And what can you do now?”
“Oh, I’ve left the photograph with the landlady, and she is to see if any of her customers recognise it; it’ll stand on the counter.”