Spargo gave her one of the coins, and resigned himself to his fate, whatever it might be.

“You won’t get the other unless you tell something,” he said.  “Who are you, anyway?”

The woman, who had begun mumbling and chuckling over the half-sovereign, grinned horribly.

“At the boarding-house yonder, young man, they call me Mother Gutch,” she answered; “but my proper name is Mrs. Sabina Gutch, and once upon a time I was a good-looking young woman.  And when my husband died I went to Jane Baylis as housekeeper, and when she retired from that and came to live in that boarding-house where we live now, she was forced to bring me with her and to keep me.  Why had she to do that, young man?”

“Heaven knows!” answered Spargo.

“Because I’ve got a hold on her, young man—­I’ve got a secret of hers,” continued Mother Gutch.  “She’d be scared to death if she knew I’d been behind that hedge and had heard what she said to you, and she’d be more than scared if she knew that you and I were here, talking.  But she’s grown hard and near with me, and she won’t give me a penny to get a drop of anything with, and an old woman like me has a right to her little comforts, and if you’ll buy the secret, young man, I’ll split on her, there and then, when you pay the money.”

“Before I talk about buying any secret,” said Spargo, “you’ll have to prove to me that you’ve a secret to sell that’s worth my buying.”

“And I will prove it!” said Mother Gutch with sudden fierceness.  “Touch the bell, and let me have another glass, and then I’ll tell you.  Now,” she went on, more quietly—­Spargo noticed that the more she drank, the more rational she became, and that her nerves seemed to gain strength and her whole appearance to be improved—­“now, you came to her to find out about her brother-in-law, Maitland, that went to prison, didn’t you?”

“Well?” demanded Spargo.

“And about that boy of his?” she continued.

“You heard all that was said,” answered Spargo.  “I’m waiting to hear what you have to say.”

But Mother Gutch was resolute in having her own way.  She continued her questions: 

“And she told you that Maitland came and asked for the boy, and that she told him the boy was dead, didn’t she?” she went on.

“Well?” said Spargo despairingly.  “She did.  What then?”

Mother Gutch took an appreciative pull at her glass and smiled knowingly.  “What then?” she chuckled.  “All lies, young man, the boy isn’t dead—­any more than I am.  And my secret is—­”

“Well?” demanded Spargo impatiently.  “What is it?”

“This!” answered Mother Gutch, digging her companion in the ribs, “I know what she did with him!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

REVELATIONS