Yet no one had entered the room, no
face had appeared at the door.
"What's up?" asked Gammon.
The other regained his self-possession, as though he had for a
moment wandered mentally from the subject they were discussing.
"Forgive me. What name did you say? Yes, yes, Clover. Odd name. Tell
me something about him. Where did you know him? What was he?"
Having gone so far, Gammon saw no reason for refusing the details of
the story. With the pleasure that every man feels in narrating
circumstances known only to a few, he told all he could about the
career of Mrs. Clover's husband. Greenacre listened with a placidly
smiling attention.
"Just the kind of thing I am always coming across," he remarked.
"Everyday story in London. We must find this man. Do you know his
Christian name?"
Mrs. Clover called him Mark.
"Mark? May or may not be his own, of course. And now, if you permit
the question, who saw this man and recognized him in the theatre?"
Gammon gave a laugh. Then, fearing that he might convey a wrong
impression, he answered seriously that it was a niece of Mrs.
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