"Quite a common creature, was she not?"
"I don't know what you call common; say undistinguished, born in the lower middle class—a nursery governess, married to a comedian first, and to an American adventurer next, who is now a millionaire. She called upon me, and began to inquire."
"Well, but what does she know?"
"Nothing, except that she parted with her boy when she was poor, and she would give all the world to get him back now that she is rich."
"He would not make her any happier. I can assure her of that."
"Perhaps not. She saw a young man somewhere, who reminded her of her husband. This made her remember things. She heard my name mentioned, and came to see if I was the man she knew in Birmingham."
"And then?"
"All I could say was—truthfully—that I knew nothing about the lady."
"What will she do?"
"I don't know. But she can discover nothing. Believe me, she can do nothing—nothing at all. It was well, however, to warn you—to tell you. The young man she saw may have been your son. It was at the theatre."