she didn't know _where_
they was. People ought to leave words where they's movin' at, but they
don't. You're very welcome," she added, as he expressed his thanks; and
he would have been welcome had he questioned her for an hour. His
parting bow and smile stuck in her heart a six-months.

He went to the spot pointed out. As a Creole he was used to seeing very
respectable people living in very small and plain houses. This one was
not too plain even for his ideas of Richling, though it was but a little
one-street-door-and-window affair, with an alley on the left running
back into the small yard behind. He knocked. Again no one answered. He
looked down the alley and saw, moving about the yard, a large woman,
who, he felt certain, could not be Mrs. Richling.

Two little short-skirted, bare-legged girls were playing near him. He
spoke to them in French. Did they know where Monsieu' Itchlin lived? The
two children repeated the name, looking inquiringly at each other.

"_Non, miche._"--"No, sir, they didn't know."

"_Qui reste ici?_" he asked. "Who lives here?"

"_Ici? Madame qui reste la c'est Mizziz Ri-i-i-ly!_" said one.

"Yass," said the other, breaking into English and rubbing a musquito off
of her well-tanned shank with the sole of her foot, "tis Mizziz
Ri-i-i-ly what live there. She jess move een. She's got a lill
baby.--Oh! you means dat lady what was in de Chatty Hawspill!"

"No, no! A real, nice _lady_. She nevva saw that Cha'ity Hospi'l."

The little girls shook their heads. They couldn't imagine a person who
had never seen the Charity Hospital.

"Was there nobody else who had moved into any of these houses about here
lately?" He spoke again in French. They shook their heads. Two boys came
forward and verified the testimony. Narcisse went back with his report:
"Moved,--not found."

"I fine that ve'y d'oll, Doctah Seveeah," concluded the unaugmented,
hanging up his hat; "some peop' always 'ard to fine. I h-even notiz that
sem thing w'en I go to colic' some bill. I dunno 'ow' tis, Doctah, but I
assu' you I kin tell that by a man's physio'nomie. Nobody teach me that.
'Tis my own in_geen_u'ty 'as made me to discoveh that, in fact."

The Doctor was silent. Presently he drew a piece of paper toward him
and, dipping his pen into the ink, began to write:--

"Information wanted of the whereabouts of John Richling"--

"Narcisse," he called, still writing, "I want you to take an
advertisement to the 'Picayune' off