Entering, I asked the dark-eyed girl behind the small counter if Mr Merli kept the establishment.
“Yes, sir, he does,” was her reply.
“Can I see him?”
“He’s been suddenly called abroad, sir,” answered the girl; “he left London this morning.”
“By what train?”
“Nine o’clock from Charing Cross.”
“Do you happen to know a Mr Kershaw Kirk?”
“Yes; he was here last night to see him,” replied the girl. “That’s the only time I’ve ever met him.”
“When do you expect Mr Merli back?”
“Oh, I don’t know, sir! He’s gone to Italy, I expect; and when he goes there he’s generally away for some weeks.”