“I’m sure you’re very careful,” Peggy broke in. “But—”
“This is a respectable house,” the woman said primly.
“Oh, I can see that,” Peggy assured her. “But when did Mr. Agate leave you? And do you know where he went?”
Tom Agate’s erstwhile landlady pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I don’t know anything about him,” she said shortly. “You just can’t trust people these days. Why, I was saying to Maude Benson the other day....”
Peggy realized that she was going to have to think and talk quickly in order to get information out of the woman. “I know how you must feel,” Peggy soothed. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “But Mr. Agate’s had a very sad life.”
The woman stopped and stared at Peggy with fresh interest. “Really!”
“Oh, yes,” Peggy said gravely. “He was orphaned at an early age. The only person to take care of him was a distant cousin who tried to disinherit him.”
The woman was clearly shocked. “No!”
“Yes. You see, Mr. Agate is the rightful heir to the Agate fortune.” Peggy held her fingers up to her lips. “Now you mustn’t breathe this to a soul.” The woman nodded breathlessly. “But Mr. Agate is the only son of Henry Agate. You know,” she prompted, “the Agate family. One of the wealthiest in America.”
The woman looked at Peggy in round-eyed wonder. “Oh, yes,” she said. “The Agates.”