no doubt.

"And she was young, and carried a bunch of flowers, and seemed troubled?
What! not young, and carried no flowers--and wasn't even anxious and
trembling?"

The boy, who had been shaking his head, looked nonplussed.

"I think as she was what you might call troubled. But she wasn't crying,
and when she spoke to me, she put more feeling into her grip than into
her voice. She just dragged me to the drug-store, sir. If she hadn't
given me money first, I should have wriggled away in spite of her. But I
likes money, sir; I don't get too much of it."

Mr. Gryce by this time was moving on. "Not young," he repeated to
himself. "Some old flame, then, of Mr. Adams; they're apt to be
dangerous, very dangerous, more dangerous than the young ones."

In front of the drug-store he paused. "Show me where she stood while you
went in."

The boy pointed out the identical spot. He seemed as eager as the
detective.

"And was she standing there when you came out?"

"Oh, no, sir; she went away while I was inside."

"Did you see her go? Can you tell me whether she went up street or
down?"