It had never occurred to Montague before that such a person existed;
and he turned in some surprise when she spoke to him.

"I beg pardon, sir," she said. "But there is something I have to
tell you."

"What is it?" said he.

"There is someone trying to find out about you," said the woman.

"What do you mean?" he asked, in perplexity.

"Begging your pardon, sir," said the woman, "but there was a man
came here this morning, very early, and he offered me money, sir,
and he wanted me to save him all the papers that I took out of your
scrap basket, sir."

Montague caught his breath. "Papers out of my scrap basket!" he
gasped.

"Yes, sir," said the woman. "It is done now and then, sir,--we learn
of such things, you know. And we are poor women,--they don't pay us
very well. But you are a gentleman, sir, and I told him I would have
nothing to do with it."

"What sort of a looking man was he?" Montague demanded.

"He was a dark chap, sir," said the other, "a sort of Jew like. He
will maybe come back again."