"Step inside, sir," he said, indicating a door in the rear. "Private room
there, sir."

Viner and Barleyfield walked into a little snugly furnished sitting-room;
the landlord followed and closed the door.

"Do you happen to know the name of the gentleman who was speaking to you
just now?" asked Viner, going straight to his point. "I've a very
particular reason for wishing to know it."

"No more idea than I have of yours, sir," replied the landlord with a
shrewd glance.

Viner pulled out a card and laid it on the table.

"That is my name," he said. "You and the gentleman who has just gone out
were speaking just now of another gentleman whom he used to meet
here--who used to sit with him in that far corner. Just so--you don't
know the name of that gentleman, either?"

"No more than I know the others', sir," replied the landlord, shaking
his head. "Lord bless you, folks may come in here for a year or two, and
unless they happen to be neighbours of mine, I don't know who they are.
Now, there's your friend there," he went on, indicating Barleyfield with
a smile, "I know his face as that of a customer, but I don't know who he
is! That gentleman who's just gone out, he's been in the habit of
dropping in here for a twelvemonth, maybe, but I never remember hearing
his name. As for the gentleman he referred to, why, I know him as one
that's come in here pretty regular for the last few weeks, but I don't