The landlady professed to know nothing.
"You do know, however," he persisted, reading knowledge in her eyes.
"Is it trouble you mean for him?" asked the woman, "and him such a fine, well-set-up young man, too! Is it trouble? Oh, dear, I always thought he got his money on the cross. Look here. I ain't going to round on him, though he has gone away and left a comfortable room. So there! And you may go."
Lala Roy opened his hand. There were at least five golden sovereigns glorifying his dingy palm.
"Can gold," the moralist asked, "ever increase the virtue of man? Woman, how much?"
"Is it trouble?" she repeated, looking greedily at the money. "Will the young man get copped?"
Lala understood no London slang. But he showed his hand again.
"How much? Who so is covetous let him know that his heart is poor. How much?"
"Poor young man! I'll take them all, please, sir. What's he done?"
"Where does he live?"