“He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been, and so on, and how there’d been an inquest in his wife’s family once, which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, ‘Pretty busy, I suppose, just now, what?’ and then he’d say, ‘Middlin’,’ and go on again about Susan⁠—that was the one that had the inquest⁠—he talked about it as if it were a disease⁠—and then I’d try again, and say, ‘Slack times, I expect, just now, eh?’ and he’d say ‘Middlin’ again, and then it was time to offer him another drink, and I didn’t seem to be getting much nearer. But I got him at last. I asked him if he knew John Borden⁠—he was the man who said he’d seen Mark at the station. Well, he knew all about Borden, and after he’d told me all about Borden’s wife’s family, and how one of them had been burnt to death⁠—after you with the beer; thanks⁠—well, then I said carelessly that it must be very hard to remember anybody whom you had just seen once, so as to identify him afterwards, and he agreed that it would be ‘middlin’ hard,’ and then⁠—”

“Give me three guesses,” interrupted Antony. “You asked him if he remembered everybody who came to his inn?”