age in securing the revelations of which Spargo had got the
conditional promise. At any rate, they accompanied Spargo to his room,
intent on seeing, hearing and bargaining with the lady he had locked up
there.

Spargo's room smelt heavily of unsweetened gin, but Mother Gutch was
soberer than ever. She insisted upon being introduced to proprietor and
editor in due and proper form, and in discussing terms with them before
going into any further particulars. The editor was all for temporizing
with her until something could be done to find out what likelihood of
truth there was in her, but the proprietor, after sizing her up in his
own shrewd fashion, took his two companions out of the room.

"We'll hear what the old woman has to say on her own terms," he said.
"She may have something to tell that is really of the greatest
importance in this case: she certainly has something to tell. And, as
Spargo says, she'll probably drink herself to death in about as short a
time as possible. Come back--let's hear her story." So they returned to
the gin-scented atmosphere, and a formal document was drawn out by
which the proprietor of the _Watchman_ bound himself to pay Mrs. Gutch
the sum of three pounds a week for life (Mrs. Gutch insisting on the
insertion of the words "every Saturday morning, punctual and regular")
and then Mrs. Gutch was invited to tell her tale. And Mrs. Gutch
settled herself to do so, and Spargo prepared to take it down, word for
word.

"Which the story, as that young man called it, is not so long as a
monkey's tail nor so short as a Manx cat's, gentlemen," said Mrs.
Gutch; "but full of meat as an egg. Now, you see, when that Maitland
affair at Market Milcaster came off, I was housekeeper to Miss Jane
Baylis at Brighton. She kept a boarding-house there, in Kemp Town, and
close to the sea-front, and a very good thing she made out of it, and
had saved a nice bit, and having, like her sister, Mrs. Maitland, had a
little fortune left her by her father, as was at one time a publican
here in London, she had a good lump of money. And all that money was in
this here Maitland's hands, every penny. I very well remember the day
when the news came about that affair of Maitland robbing the bank. Miss
Baylis, she was like a mad thing when she saw it in the paper, and
before she'd seen it an hour she was off to Market Milcaster. I went up
to the station with her, and she told me then before she got in the
train that Maitland