"No," said Cicero, grasping the idea. "Dick was fair when we were boys. I heard rumors that little Sophy was engaged--let me see--to a Mr. Thorold." "Alan Thorold, Esquire," corrected the coachman gruffly; "one of the oldest families hereabouts, as lives at the Abbey farm. He's gone with her to the seaside." "To the seaside? Not to Brighton?" "Nothin' of the sort--to Bournemouth, if you know where that is." "I know some things, my friend," said Cicero mildly. "It was Bournemouth I meant--not unlike Brighton, I think, since both names begin with a B. I know that Miss Marlow--dear little Sophy!--is staying at the Imperial Hotel, Bournemouth." "You're just wrong!" cried Thomas, falling into the trap; "she is at the Soudan Hotel. I've got the address to send on letters." "Can I take them?" asked Gramp, rising. "I am going to Bournemouth to see little Sophy and Mr. Thorold. I shall tell them of your hospitality." Before the footman could reply to this generous offer, the page-boy of the establishment darted in much excited. "Oh, here's a go!" he exclaimed. "Dr. Warrender's run away, an' the Quiet Gentleman's followed!" "Wot d'ye mean, Billy?" "Wot I say. The doctor ain't bin 'ome all night, nor all mornin', an' Mrs. Warrender's in hysterics over him. Their 'ousemaid I met shoppin' tole me." The servants looked at one another. Here was more trouble, more excitement. "And the Quiet Gentleman?" asked the cook with ghoulish interest. "He's gone, too. Went out larst night, an' never come back. Mrs. Marry thinks he's bin murdered." There was a babel of voices and cries, but after a moment quiet was restored. Then Cicero placed his hand on the boy's head. "My boy," he said pompously, "who is the Quiet Gentleman? Let us be clear upon the point of the Quiet Gentleman." "Don't you know, sir?" put in the eager cook. "He's a mystery, 'aving bin staying at Mrs. Marry's cottage, she a lone widder taking in boarders." "I'll give a week's notice!" sobbed the scullery-maid. "These crimes is too much for me." "I didn't say the Quiet Gentleman 'ad been murdered," said Billy, the page; "but Mrs. Marry only thinks so, cos 'e ain't come 'ome.' "As like as not he's cold and stiff in some lonely grave!" groaned Mrs. Crammer hopefully. "The Quiet Gentleman," said Cicero, bent upon acquiring further information--"tall, yellow-bearded, with a high forehead and a bald head?" "Well, I never, sir!" cried Jane, the housemaid. "If you ain't describing Dr. Warrender! Did you know him, sir?" Cicero was quite equal to the occasion. "I knew him professionally. He attended me for a relaxed throat. I was _vox et præterea nihil_ until he cured me. But what was this mysterious gentleman like? Short, eh?"