Viola turned back to the tea-things. As she moved them about, the eager eyes of the watcher saw that her hands were trembling.
"He 's the finest gentleman I ever set eyes on since I came to California," continued the widow, immensely interested and hardly able to wait for further developments. "I said to Micky, after he 'd been here, 'There, Mick Cassidy, is the way they grow real gentlemen. No imitation about him!'"
"Was he here?" came the question, in a hardly comprehending voice.
"He was that—and to find out about you. He was that crazy to know where you 'd gone that he was at Coggles's, and had the Robsons turned 'most inside out with his questions. When he could n't get nothing out of them, he got detectives to track out Mick,—'cause, you remember, he 'd left that package,—and he was here to find out what I knew. Oh, he's got it bad."
Viola, conscious of the scrutiny fastened upon her, bent her face over the tray. She began to make another cup of tea.
"I could n't give him no information," continued Mrs. Cassidy—"more 's the pity, for I ain't never seen a gentleman that took my fancy more; and just as pleasant and agreeable as if he was no better off than me or Mick. Policeman O'Hara, when I asked him, says to me:
