Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. “It’s—private. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. ” “My dear young lady,” the official said irritably, “this man would not have your name and address in his pocket without an object. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. "A hundred dollars which was left from your husband's money. But I was portentous, I can assure you. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully.
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