"Look here!" he said. "I'm going to ask that landlord a question or two. Come with me."
He went up to the bar, Barleyfield following in close attendance, and gave the landlord a significant glance.
"Can I have a word with you, in private?" he asked.
The landlord looked his questioner over and promptly opened a flap in the counter.
"Step inside, sir," he said, indicating a door in the rear. "Private room there, sir."
Viner and Barleyfield walked into a little snugly furnished sitting-room; the landlord followed and closed the door.
"Do you happen to know the name of the gentleman who was speaking to you just now?" asked Viner, going straight to his point. "I've a very particular reason for wishing to know it."
"No more idea than I have of yours, sir," replied the landlord with a shrewd glance.
Viner pulled out a card and laid it on the table.
"That is my name," he said. "You and the gentleman who has just gone out were speaking just now of another gentleman whom he used to meet here—who used to sit with him in that far corner. Just so—you don't know the name of that gentleman, either?"
"No more than I know the others', sir," replied the landlord, shaking his head. "Lord bless you, folks may come in here for a year or two, and unless they happen to be neighbours of mine, I don't know who they are. Now, there's your friend there," he went on, indicating Barleyfield with a smile, "I know
