alive?"

"It will do him good to know the truth; to know whether he be alive
or no. Until he knows that he cannot act properly."

"Poor gentleman! poor gentleman!" said Mrs. Jones, putting her
handkerchief up to her eyes.

"If you have any information in this matter--and I think you have,
Mrs. Jones--or even any suspicion, it is your duty to tell me."

"Well, sir, I'm sure I don't say against that. You are Sir Thomas's
friend to be sure, and no doubt you know best. And I'm a poor
ignorant woman. But to speak candidly, sir, I don't feel myself free
to talk on this matter. I haven't never made nor marred since I've
been in this family, not in such matters as them. What I've seed,
I've kep' to myself, and when I've had my suspecs, as a woman can't
but have 'em, I've kep' them to myself also. And saving your
presence, sir, and meaning no offence to a gentleman like you," and
here she got up from her chair and made another curtsey, "I think
I'd liefer hold my tongue than say anything more on this matter."
And then she remained standing as though she expected permission to
retire.

But there was still another pause, and Mr. Pendergast sat looking at
the fire. "Don't you know, ma'am," at last he said, with almost an
angry voice, "that the man was here, in this house, last week?" And
now he turned round at her and looked her full in the face. He did
not, however, know Mrs. Jones. It might be difficult to coax her
into free communication, but it was altogether out of his power to