This, it will be remembered, was the person whose description tallied exactly with that of her father.
“They went outside together,” said the boots, “out into the yard, and there conversed alone in half-whispers. Afterwards they rejoined the others. Mr. Lewis seemed very annoyed with her; nevertheless, after a cup of tea each, about half-past five the four of them got into the car in which Winton had arrived and drove away in the direction of Grantham. Winton gave me a sovereign for myself—an unusually generous gift, I can assure you, sir,” he laughed.
“And now what is your own opinion concerning them?” I asked.
“Why, there can only be one opinion, sir—that they are wrong ’uns. I felt half a mind to tell Mr. Pearson, the police-constable who lives across in Water Lane, but I didn’t like to without consulting somebody. And I didn’t want to wake up the manageress.”
“Ah! and it may now be too late, Cross,” said the lady in question, who had been standing by all the time. Then, addressing me, she said—
“The whole affair seemed most mysterious, sir, therefore I went round and saw the inspector of police this morning, and told him briefly of our strange visitors. I’m rather glad they’re gone, for one never likes unpleasantness in a hotel. Yet, of course, the fault cannot be that of the hotel-keeper if he takes in an undesirable.”
“Of course not. But what view did the inspector hold?”
“Inspector Deane merely expressed the opinion that they were suspicious persons—that’s all.”
“So they seem to have been,” I remarked, without satisfying her as to who I really was. My story there was that I had business relations with Mr. Lewis, and had followed him there in the hope of catching him up.