“I went in and asked whether the old man was dead; no, he had retired from business and was lodging not far away.  I found the house—­a rather grimy place, and the door was opened by a decidedly grimy woman.  I saw at once that she didn’t care to let me in.  What was my business? and so on; but I held firm, and got at last into a room on the second floor, an uncomfortable sitting-room, where poor old Potts welcomed me.  If only he had known my address, he said, he should have written to tell me the news.  His son in America, the one I knew, was doing well, and sent money every month, enough for him to live upon.  ’But was he comfortable in those lodgings?  I asked.  Of course I saw that he wasn’t, and I saw too that my question made him nervous.  He looked at the door, and spoke in a whisper.  The upshot of it was that he had fallen into the hands of a landlady who victimised him; just because she was an old acquaintance, he didn’t feel able to leave her.  ’Shall I help you to get away?’ I asked him, and his face shone with hope.  Of course the woman was listening at the keyhole; we both knew that.  When I went away she had run half down the stairs, and I caught her angry look before she hid it with a grin.  I must find decent lodgings for the old fellow, as soon as possible.  He is being bled mercilessly.”

“How very disgraceful!” exclaimed Mrs. Cross.  “Really, the meanness of some women of that class!”

Her daughter had her eyes cast down, on her lips the faintest suggestion of a smile.

“I wonder whether we could hear of anything suitable,” pursued her mother, “by inquiring of people we know out at Holloway.  I’m thinking of the Boltons, Bertha.”

Mr. Potts’ requirements were discussed, Bertha interesting herself in the matter, and making various suggestions.  The talk grew more animated.  Warburton was led to tell of his own experience in lodgings.  Catching Bertha’s eye, he gave his humour full scope on the subject of Mrs. Wick, and there was merriment in which even Mrs. Cross made a show of joining.

“Why,” she exclaimed, “do you stay in such very uncomfortable rooms?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Will replied, “it’s only for a time.”

“Ah, you have other views?”

“Yes,” he answered, smiling cheerfully, “I have other views.”

CHAPTER 44

Toward the end of the following week, Mrs. Cross came to the shop.  She had a busy air, and spoke to Warburton in a confidential undertone.

“We have been making inquiries, and at last I think we have heard of something that might suit your poor friend.  This is the address.  My daughter went there this morning, and had a long talk with the woman, and she thinks it really might do; but perhaps you have already found something?”

“Nothing at all,” answered Will.  “I am much obliged to you.  I will go as soon as possible.”

“We shall be so glad to hear if it suits,” said Mrs. Cross.  “Do look in on Sunday, will you?  We are always at home at five o’clock.—­ Oh, I have written out a little list of things,” she added, laying her grocery order on the counter.  “Please tell me what they come to.”