“Oh, twelve, thirteen. Ah, more like fifteen years, sir!”
“So long! Then you know all the people here?”
“Yes, sir, I daresay I do,” answered the woman, putting her hands under her apron, and examining Holdsworth’s face and clothes with great curiosity.
“Who last lived in that house at the bottom of the street?”
“You mean the one you was askin’ my husband about?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Fairchild, the butcher, after he sold his business about two years ago.”
“Who before Mr. Fairchild?”
“It stood empty awhile after Mrs. Holdsworth left it.”
“Where is she now?”