"He do," replied Mrs. Sampson, "but 'e's gone out, an' won't be back
till the arternoon, which any messige 'ull be delivered to 'im punctual
on 'is arrival."

"I'm glad he's not in," said Mr. Gorby. "Would you allow me to have a
few moments' conversation?"

"What is it?" asked the landlady, her curiosity being roused.

"I'll tell you when we get inside," answered Mr. Gorby.

She looked at him with her sharp little eyes, and seeing nothing
disreputable about him, led the way upstairs, crackling loudly the
whole time. This so astonished Mr. Gorby that he cast about in his own
mind for an explanation of the phenomenon.

"Wants oiling about the jints," was his conclusion, "but I never
heard anything like it, and she looks as if she'd snap in two, she's
that brittle."

Mrs. Sampson took Gorby into Brian's sitting-room, and having closed
the door, sat down and prepared to hear what he had to say for himself.

"I 'ope it ain't bills," she said. "Mr. Fitzgerald 'avin' money in the
bank, and everythin' respectable like a gentleman as 'e is, tho', to be
sure, your bill might come down on him unbeknown, 'e not 'avin' kept it
in mind, which it ain't everybody as 'ave sich a good memory as my aunt
on my mother's side, she 'avin' been famous for 'er dates like a
'istory, not to speak of 'er multiplication tables, and the numbers of