The next fifth of an hour was given to idle banter, largely with the two of us airing out grievances about our respective employers and other such frivolities. As the hour neared its half, however, I noticed that Dobb's friendly expression faded somewhat, as if a weight had fallen upon his thoughts.

Finally, after mulling it over for a moment, he spoke, and the sobriety of his voice drew my gaze. "So anyhow, I wanted to tell you that I'd be leaving town soon."

"Oh?" I asked, still attempting to feign a bit of prudish nonchalance. "For long?"

"For good," he said with a mild chuckle. "Its me mother, you see. She's getting on in the years and what with the fevers, she hasn't got the energy to get out and about. Figured I'd play the good son and move back home to take care of her."

I piqued my brow, taking a drink of my tea before continuing, "Would it not be more sensible to move her here? You'd no doubt find better care and amenities here in the city than… where did you say she was, again?"

"The Fjordsgate," he replied solemnly, and for good reason. That region was practically a world away from Nevarynn County, and at least six weeks by way of coach. Certainly no trip for an ailing senior to travel safely.

I looked away, feeling somewhat abashed. "That's very thoughtful of you," I said finally, "Differences aside, I wish you the best, Mister Dobbs."

"Aw, I appreciate that, Miss Cleyne," he said, making a motion to tip an invisible hat. After that, however, his tone picked up again. "Incidentally, I'm right glad I bumped into you this morning. You…ah…would you say you know this city quite well?"

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I glanced back. There was an eagerness in his tone, but he kept himself hushed, like one who was on the cusp of disclosing something incriminating. This pique my natural curiosity, and I nodded, slowly, still gripping my tea cup in both hands.

"Y'see, I've been er…" he paused and looked around. "Recently, I've been carrying letters for a particular person in the city. Real private, you see. And she'd like it very much if I could find someone trustworthy to take up the job once I've left. Since its on your way and you know your way around these parts, I thought you might be interested.

My brow sunk, and I went to reach for my book, "I'm afraid I've no interest in working for post."

"Not for the post," he rasped and put his hand quickly over the book, accidentally breaking the hush and drawing my gaze back. Surprised, I withdrew my hand, and watched as he stuck his head up to make sure no one heard. Something about his sudden tactile demeanor gave me pause. Was this truly something unsavory then? If so, then perhaps I should quit myself of this business immediately.

Yet at the same time, I found myself interested in learning more. For all his shortcomings, Mister Dobbs had always been a hardworking and standup individual in my mind, and the thought that this run-of-the-mill postal worker having some grave secret life intrigued me more than I'd like to admit. Thus I opted to hear him out.

"It's a…private contract, you see. Nothing illicit, least by way of the law. Don't figure my boss'd be right pleased if he found out, though."

"And why would I be interested in this sordid affair of yours?" I probed. It wasn't quite as dire as I was imagining, but it was enough to hold my attention.

"Well…you see…" Dobbs went on describe the work, which seemed simple enough. It was just as he had described: a simple venture in which he carried unmarked letters to a particular address and received payment, though when I asked him how much, I nearly fell on the floor.