Gammon admitted that the name had a significance for him. A matter of curiosity. "No harm in a bit of genealogy," said Greenacre. "Always interesting. Stanhope Gardens? What number?" He urged no further question and gave no promise, but Gammon felt sure this time that information would speedily be forthcoming. Scarcely a week passed before Greenacre wrote to him with a request for a meeting at the Bilboes. As usual, the man of mystery approached his subject by indirect routes. Beginning with praise of London as the richest ground of romance discoverable in the world, he proceeded to tell the story of a cats'-meat woman who, after purveying for the cats at a West End mansion for many years, discovered one day that the master of the house was her own son. "He behaved to her very handsomely. At this moment she is living in a pleasant little villa out Leatherhead way. You see her driving herself in a little donkey-carriage, and throwing bits of meat to pussy-cats at the cottage doors. Touch of nature that, isn't it? By the by, you were speaking of a family named Gildersleeve." He added this, absently looking about the little room, which just now they had to themselves. "Know anything about them?" asked Gammon, eyeing him curiously. "I was just going to say--ah, yes, to be sure, the Gildersleeves. Now I wonder, Gammon--forgive me, I can't help wondering--_why_ this family interests you." "Oh, nothing. I came across the name." "Evidently." Greenacre's tone became a little more positive. "I'm sure you have no objection to telling me how and where you came across it." Gammon had an uncomfortable sense of something unfamiliar in his friend. Greenacre had never spoken in this way to him; it sounded rather too imperative, too much the tone of a superior. "I don't think I can tell you that," he said awkwardly. "No? Really? I'm sorry. In that case I can't tell you anything that I have learnt. Yet I fancy it _might_ be worth your while to exchange." "Exchange?" "Your information for mine, you know. What I have is substantial, reliable. I think you can trust me in matters of genealogy. Come now. Am I right in supposing this curiosity of yours is not altogether unconnected with Your interest in Francis Quodling the silk broker? Nothing to me, Gammon; nothing, I assure you. Pure love of genealogical inquiry. Never made a penny out of such things in my life. But I have taken a little trouble, etc. As a matter of friendship--no? Then we'll drop the subject. By the by have you a black-and-tan to dispose of?" He passed into a vein so chatty and so amiable that Gammon began to repent of distrusting him. Besides, his information might be really valuable and could not easily be obtained in any other way. "Look here, Greenacre, I don't see why I shouldn't tell you. The fact is, a man I used to know has disappeared, and I want to find him. He was seen at the theatre with a lady who lives at that house; that's the long and the short of it."