When he had satisfied
himself that no one was listening, he came back and said in a whisper,
"That's a lie. Not ez Rosey means to lie, but it's a trick he's put
upon that poor child. That man, Mr. Renshaw, hez been hangin' round the
Pontiac ever since. I've seed him twice with my own eyes pass the cabin
windys. More than that, I've heard strange noises at night, and seen
strange faces in the alley over yer. And only jist now ez I kem in I
ketched sight of a furrin-lookin' Chinee nigger slinking round the back
door of what useter be Ferrers' loft."
"Did he look like a sailor?" asked Renshaw quickly, with a return of
his former suspicion.
"Not more than I do," said Nott, glancing complacently at his
pea-jacket. "He had rings on his yeers like a wench."
Mr. Renshaw started. But seeing Nott's eyes fixed on him, he said
lightly, "But what have these strange faces and this strange
man--probably only a Lascar sailor out of a job--to do with Ferrieres?"
"Friends o' his--feller furrin citizens--spies on Rosey, don't you see?
But they can't play the old man, Mr.
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