Captain Wragge’s vagabond face became gravely and deeply attentive.
“May I ask,” he said, “what the nature of the inquiries is likely to be?”
Magdalen hesitated. She had necessarily mentioned Michael Vanstone’s name in informing the captain of the loss of her inheritance. She must inevitably mention it to him again if she employed his services. He would doubtless discover it for himself, by a plain process of inference, before she said many words more, frame them as carefully as she might. Under these circumstances, was there any intelligible reason for shrinking from direct reference to Michael Vanstone? No intelligible reason—and yet she shrank.
“For instance,” pursued Captain Wragge, “are they inquiries about a man or a woman; inquiries about an enemy or a friend—?”
“An enemy,” she answered, quickly.
Her reply might still have kept the captain in the dark—but her eyes enlightened him. “Michael Vanstone!” thought the wary Wragge. “She looks dangerous; I’ll feel my way a little further.”
“With regard, now, to the person who is the object of these inquiries,” he resumed. “Are you thoroughly clear in your own mind about what you want to know?”
“Perfectly clear,” replied Magdalen. “I want to know where he lives, to begin with.”
“Yes. And after that?”
“I want to know about his habits; about who the people are whom he associates with; about what he does with his money—” She considered a little. “And one thing more,” she said; “I want to know whether there is any woman about his house—a relation, or a housekeeper—who has an influence over him.”