By the by have you a
black-and-tan to dispose of?"
He passed into a vein so chatty and so amiable that Gammon began to
repent of distrusting him. Besides, his information might be really
valuable and could not easily be obtained in any other way.
"Look here, Greenacre, I don't see why I shouldn't tell you. The
fact is, a man I used to know has disappeared, and I want to find
him. He was seen at the theatre with a lady who lives at that house;
that's the long and the short of it."
"Good! Now we're getting on in the old way. Age of the man about
fifty, eh? And if I remember you said he was like Quodling in the
face, Francis Quodling? Just so. H'm. I can assure you, then, that
no such individual lives at the house we're speaking of."
"No, but perhaps--"
"One moment. The Gildersleeves are a young married couple. With them
lives an older lady--"
Greenacre paused, meditating.
"The name of the missing man?" he added gently.
"Fellow called Clover."
"Clover--clover? _Clo_--"
Greenacre's first repetition of the name was mechanical, the next
sounded a note of confused surprise, the third broke short in a very
singular way, just as if his eyes had suddenly fallen on something
which startled him into silence.
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