“Elderly he will be now,” replied the informant; “but when he took the boy away he was a middle-aged man. About his age,” she added, pointing to the editor in a fashion which made that worthy man wince and the proprietor desire to laugh unconsumedly; “and not so very unlike him neither, being one as had no hair on his face.” “Ah!” said Spargo. “And where did this Mr. Elphick take the boy, Mrs. Gutch?” But Mrs. Gutch shook her head. “Ain’t no idea,” she said. “He took him. Then, as I told you, Maitland came, and Jane Baylis told him that the boy was dead. And after that she never even told me anything about the boy. She kept a tight tongue. Once or twice I asked her, and she says, ‘Never you mind,’ she says; ‘he’s all right for life, if he lives to be as old as Methusalem.’ And she never said more, and I never said more. But,” continued Mrs. Gutch, whose pocket-flask was empty, and who began to wipe tears away, “she’s treated me hard has Jane Baylis, never allowing me a little comfort such as a lady of my age should have, and when I hears the two of you a-talking this morning the other side of that privet hedge, thinks I, ‘Now’s the time to have my knife into you, my fine madam!’ And I hope I done it.” Spargo looked at the editor and the proprietor, nodding his head slightly. He meant them to understand that he had got all he wanted from Mother Gutch. “What are you going to do, Mrs. Gutch, when you leave here?” he asked. “You shall be driven straight back to Bayswater, if you like.” “Which I shall be obliged for, young man,” said Mrs. Gutch, “and likewise for the first week of the annuity, and will call every Saturday for the same at eleven punctual, or can be posted to me on a Friday, whichever is agreeable to you gentlemen. And having my first week in my purse, and being driven to Bayswater, I shall take my boxes and go to a friend of mine where I shall be hearty welcome, shaking the dust of my feet off against Jane Baylis and where I’ve been living with her.” “Yes, but, Mrs. Gutch,” said Spargo, with some anxiety, “if you go back there tonight, you’ll be very careful not to tell Miss Baylis that you’ve been here and told us all this?” Mrs. Gutch rose, dignified and composed. “Young man,” she said, “you mean well, but you ain’t used to dealing with ladies. I can keep my tongue as still as anybody when I like. I wouldn’t tell Jane Baylis my affairs—my new affairs, gentlemen, thanks to you—not for two annuities, paid twice a week!” “Take Mrs. Gutch downstairs, Spargo, and see her all right, and then come to my room,” said the editor. “And don’t you forget, Mrs. Gutch—keep a quiet tongue in your head—no more talk—or there’ll be no annuities on Saturday mornings.”