The Mystery of 31 New Inn

by R. Austin Freeman

  Chapter IX

  The House of Mystery

  Half-past nine on the following morning found us spinning along theAlbert Embankment in a hansom to the pleasant tinkle of the horse'sbell. Thorndyke appeared to be in high spirits, though the fullenjoyment of the matutinal pipe precluded fluent conversation. As aprecaution, he had put my notebook in his pocket before starting, andonce or twice he took it out and looked over its pages; but he made noreference to the object of our quest, and the few remarks that heuttered would have indicated that his thoughts were occupied with othermatters.

  Arrived at Vauxhall Station, we alighted and forthwith made our way tothe bridge that spans Upper Kennington Lane near its junction withHarleyford Road.

  "Here is our starting point," said Thorndyke. "From this place to thehouse is about three hundred yards--say four hundred and twentypaces--and at about two hundred paces we ought to reach our patch of newroad-metal. Now, are you ready? If we keep step we shall average ourstride."

  We started together at a good pace, stepping out with militaryregularity and counting aloud as we went. As we told out the hundred andninety-fourth pace I observed Thorndyke nod towards the roadway a littleahead, and, looking at it attentively as we approached, it was easy tosee by the regularity of surface and lighter colour, that it hadrecently been re-metalled.

  Having counted out the four hundred and twenty paces, we halted, andThorndyke turned to me with a smile of triumph.

  "Not a bad estimate, Jervis," said he. "That will be your house if I amnot much mistaken. There is no other mews or private roadway in sight."

  He pointed to a narrow turning some dozen yards ahead, apparently theentrance to a mews or yard and closed by a pair of massive wooden gates.

  "Yes," I answered, "there can be no doubt that this is the place; but,by Jove!" I added, as we drew nearer, "the nest is empty! Do you see?"

  I pointed to a bill that was stuck on the gate, bearing, as I could seeat this distance, the inscription "To Let."

  "Here is a new and startling, if not altogether unexpected,development," said Thorndyke, as we stood gazing at the bill; which setforth that "these premises, including stabling and workshops," were "tobe let on lease or otherwise," and referred inquiries to Messrs. RyebodyBrothers, house-agents and valuers, Upper Kennington Lane. "The questionis, should we make a few inquiries of the agent, or should we get thekeys and have a look at the inside of the house? I am inclined to doboth, and the latter first, if Messrs. Ryebody Brothers will trust uswith the keys."

  We proceeded up the lane to the address given, and, entering theoffice, Thorndyke made his request--somewhat to the surprise of theclerk; for Thorndyke was not quite the kind of person whom one naturallyassociates with stabling and workshops. However, there was nodifficulty, but as the clerk sorted out the keys from a bunch hangingfrom a hook, he remarked:

  "I expect you will find the place in a rather dirty and neglectedcondition. The house has not been cleaned yet; it is just as it was leftwhen the brokers took away the furniture."

  "Was the last tenant sold up, then?" Thorndyke asked.

  "Oh, no. He had to leave rather unexpectedly to take up some business inGermany."

  "I hope he paid his rent," said Thorndyke.

  "Oh, yes. Trust us for that. But I should say that Mr. Weiss--that washis name--was a man of some means. He seemed to have plenty of money,though he always paid in notes. I don't fancy he had a banking accountin this country. He hadn't been here more than about six or seven monthsand I imagine he didn't know many people in England, as he paid us acash deposit in lieu of references when he first came."

  "I think you said his name was Weiss. It wouldn't be H. Weiss by anychance?"

  "I believe it was. But I can soon tell you." He opened a drawer andconsulted what looked like a book of receipt forms. "Yes; H Weiss. Doyou know him, sir?"

  "I knew a Mr. H. Weiss some years ago. He came from Bremen, Iremember."

  "This Mr. Weiss has gone back to Hamburg," the clerk observed.

  "Ah," said Thorndyke, "then it would seem not to be the same. Myacquaintance was a fair man with a beard and a decidedly red nose and hewore spectacles."

  "That's the man. You've described him exactly," said the clerk, who wasapparently rather easily satisfied in the matter of description.

  "Dear me," said Thorndyke; "what a small world it is. Do you happen tohave a note of his address in Hamburg?"

  "I haven't," the clerk replied. "You see we've done with him, having gotthe rent, though the house is not actually surrendered yet. Mr Weiss'shousekeeper still has the front-door key. She doesn't start for Hamburgfor a week or so, and meanwhile she keeps the key so that she can callevery day and see if there are any letters."

  "Indeed," said Thorndyke. "I wonder if he still has the samehousekeeper."

  "This lady is a German," replied the clerk, "with a regular jaw-twistingname. Sounded like Shallybang."

  "Schallibaum. That is the lady. A fair woman with hardly any eyebrowsand a pronounced cast in the left eye."

  "Now that's very curious, sir," said the clerk. "It's the same name, andthis is a fair woman with remarkably thin eyebrows, I remember, now thatyou mention it. But it can't be the same person. I have only seen her afew times and then only just for a minute or so; but I'm quite certainshe had no cast in her eye. So, you see, sir, she can't be the sameperson. You can dye your hair or you can wear a wig or you can paintyour face; but a squint is a squint. There's no faking a swivel eye."

  Thorndyke laughed softly. "I suppose not; unless, perhaps, some onemight invent an adjustable glass eye. Are these the keys?"

  "Yes, sir. The large one belongs to the wicket in the front gate. Theother is the latch-key belonging to the side door. Mrs. Shallybang hasthe key of the front door."

  "Thank you," said Thorndyke. He took the keys, to which a wooden labelwas attached, and we made our way back towards the house of mystery,discussing the clerk's statements as we went.

  "A very communicable young gentleman, that," Thorndyke remarked. "Heseemed quite pleased to relieve the monotony of office work with alittle conversation. And I am sure I was very delighted to indulge him."

  "He hadn't much to tell, all the same," said I.

  Thorndyke looked at me in surprise. "I don't know what you would have,Jervis, unless you expect casual strangers to present you with aready-made body of evidence, fully classified, with all the inferencesand implications stated. It seemed to me that he was a highlyinstructive young man."

  "What did you learn from him?" I asked.

  "Oh, come, Jervis," he protested; "is that a fair question, under ourpresent arrangement? However, I will mention a few points. We learn thatabout six or seven months ago, Mr. H. Weiss dropped from the clouds intoKennington Lane and that he has now ascended from Kennington Lane intothe clouds. That is a useful piece of information. Then we learn thatMrs. Schallibaum has remained in England; which might be of littleimportance if it were not for a very interesting corollary that itsuggests."

  "What is that?"

  "I must leave you to consider the facts at your leisure; but you willhave noticed the ostensible reason for her remaining behind. She isengaged in puttying up the one gaping joint in their armour. One of themhas been indiscreet enough to give this address to somecorrespondent--probably a foreign correspondent. Now, as they obviouslywish to leave no tracks, they cannot give their new address to the PostOffice to have their letters forwarded, and, on the other hand, a letterleft in the box might establish such a connection as would enable themto be traced. Moreover, the letter might be of a kind that they wouldnot wish to fall into the wrong hands. They would not have given thisaddress excepting under some peculiar circumstances."

  "No, I should think not, if they took this house for the express purposeof committing a crime in it."

  "Exactly. And then there is one other fact that you may have gatheredfrom our young friend's remarks."

  "What is that?"

  "That a controllable squint is
a very valuable asset to a person whowishes to avoid identification."

  "Yes, I did note that. The fellow seemed to think that it was absolutelyconclusive."

  "And so would most people; especially in the case of a squint of thatkind. We can all squint towards our noses, but no normal person can turnhis eyes away from one another. My impression is that the presence orabsence, as the case might be, of a divergent squint would be acceptedas absolute disproof of identity. But here we are."

  He inserted the key into the wicket of the large gate, and, when we hadstepped through into the covered way, he locked it from the inside.

  "Why have you locked us in?" I asked, seeing that the wicket had alatch.

  "Because," he replied, "if we now hear any one on the premises we shallknow who it is. Only one person besides ourselves has a key."

  His reply startled me somewhat. I stopped and looked at him.

  "That is a quaint situation, Thorndyke. I hadn't thought of it. Why shemay actually come to the house while we are here; in fact, she may be inthe house at this moment."

  "I hope not," said he. "We don't particularly want Mr. Weiss to be puton his guard, for I take it, he is a pretty wide-awake gentleman underany circumstances. If she does come, we had better keep out of sight. Ithink we will look over the house first. That is of the most interest tous. If the lady does happen to come while we are here, she may stay toshow us over the place and keep an eye on us. So we will leave thestables to the last."

  We walked down the entry to the side door at which I had been admittedby Mrs. Schallibaum on the occasion of my previous visits. Thorndykeinserted the latch-key, and, as soon as we were inside, shut the doorand walked quickly through into the hall, whither I followed him. Hemade straight for the front door, where, having slipped up the catch ofthe lock, he began very attentively to examine the letter-box. It was asomewhat massive wooden box, fitted with a lock of good quality andfurnished with a wire grille through which one could inspect theinterior.

  "We are in luck, Jervis," Thorndyke remarked. "Our visit has been mosthappily timed. There is a letter in the box."

  "Well," I said, "we can't get it out; and if we could, it would behardly justifiable."

  "I don't know," he replied, "that I am prepared to assent off-hand toeither of those propositions; but I would rather not tamper with anotherperson's letter, even if that person should happen to be a murderer.Perhaps we can get the information we want from the outside of theenvelope."

  He produced from his pocket a little electric lamp fitted with abull's-eye, and, pressing the button, threw a beam of light in throughthe grille. The letter was lying on the bottom of the box face upwards,so that the address could easily be read.

  "Herrn Dr. H. Weiss," Thorndyke read aloud. "German stamp, postmarkapparently Darmstadt. You notice that the 'Herrn Dr.' is printed and therest written. What do you make of that?"

  "I don't quite know. Do you think he is really a medical man?"

  "Perhaps we had better finish our investigation, in case we aredisturbed, and discuss the bearings of the facts afterwards. The name ofthe sender may be on the flap of the envelope. If it is not, I shallpick the lock and take out the letter. Have you got a probe about you?"

  "Yes; by force of habit I am still carrying my pocket case."

  I took the little case from my pocket and extracting from it a jointedprobe of thickish silver wire, screwed the two halves together andhanded the completed instrument to Thorndyke; who passed the slender rodthrough the grille and adroitly turned the letter over.

  "Ha!" he exclaimed with deep satisfaction, as the light fell on thereverse of the envelope, "we are saved from the necessity of theft--orrather, unauthorized borrowing--'Johann Schnitzler, Darmstadt.' That isall that we actually want. The German police can do the rest ifnecessary."

  He handed me back my probe, pocketed his lamp, released the catch of thelock on the door, and turned away along the dark, musty-smelling hall.

  "Do you happen to know the name of Johann Schnitzler?" he asked.

  I replied that I had no recollection of ever having heard the namebefore.

  "Neither have I," said he; "but I think we may form a pretty shrewdguess as to his avocation. As you saw, the words 'Herrn Dr.' wereprinted on the envelope, leaving the rest of the address to be writtenby hand. The plain inference is that he is a person who habituallyaddresses letters to medical men, and as the style of the envelope andthe lettering--which is printed, not embossed--is commercial, we mayassume that he is engaged in some sort of trade. Now, what is a likelytrade?"

  "He might be an instrument maker or a drug manufacturer; more probablythe latter, as there is an extensive drug and chemical industry inGermany, and as Mr. Weiss seemed to have more use for drugs thaninstruments."

  "Yes, I think you are right; but we will look him up when we get home.And now we had better take a glance at the bedroom; that is, if you canremember which room it was."

  "It was on the first floor," said I, "and the door by which I enteredwas just at the head of the stairs."

  We ascended the two flights, and, as we reached the landing, I halted.

  "This was the door," I said, and was about to turn the handle whenThorndyke caught me by the arm.

  "One moment, Jervis," said he. "What do you make of this?"

  He pointed to a spot near the bottom of the door where, on closeinspection, four good-sized screw-holes were distinguishable. They hadbeen neatly stopped with putty and covered with knotting, and were sonearly the colour of the grained and varnished woodwork as to be hardlyvisible.

  "Evidently," I answered, "there has been a bolt there, though it seems aqueer place to fix one."

  "Not at all," replied Thorndyke. "If you look up you will see that therewas another at the top of the door, and, as the lock is in the middle,they must have been highly effective. But there are one or two otherpoints that strike one. First, you will notice that the bolts have beenfixed on quite recently, for the paint that they covered is of the samegrimy tint as that on the rest of the door. Next, they have been takenoff, which, seeing that they could hardly have been worth the trouble ofremoval, seems to suggest that the person who fixed them considered thattheir presence might appear remarkable, while the screw-holes, whichhave been so skilfully and carefully stopped, would be less conspicuous.

  "Then, they are on the outside of the door--an unusual situation forbedroom bolts--and were of considerable size. They were long and thick."

  "I can see, by the position of the screw-holes, that they were long; buthow do you arrive at their thickness?"

  "By the size of the counter-holes in the jamb of the door. These holeshave been very carefully filled with wooden plugs covered with knotting;but you can make out their diameter, which is that of the bolts, andwhich is decidedly out of proportion for an ordinary bedroom door. Letme show you a light."

  He flashed his lamp into the dark corner, and I was able to seedistinctly the portentously large holes into which the bolts had fitted,and also to note the remarkable neatness with which they had beenplugged.

  "There was a second door, I remember," said I. "Let us see if that wasguarded in a similar manner."

  We strode through the empty room, awakening dismal echoes as we trod thebare boards, and flung open the other door. At top and bottom, similargroups of screw-holes showed that this also had been made secure, andthat these bolts had been of the same very substantial character as theothers.

  Thorndyke turned away from the door with a slight frown.

  "If we had any doubts," said he, "as to what has been going on in thishouse, these traces of massive fastenings would be almost enough tosettle them."

  "They might have been there before Weiss came," I suggested. "He onlycame about seven months ago and there is no date on the screw-holes."

  "That is quite true. But when, with their recent fixture, you couple thefacts that they have been removed, that very careful measures have beentaken to obliterate the traces of their presence, and that they
wouldhave been indispensable for the commission of the crime that we arealmost certain was being committed here, it looks like an excess ofcaution to seek other explanations."

  "But," I objected, "if the man, Graves, was really imprisoned, could nothe have smashed the window and called for help?"

  "The window looks out on the yard, as you see; but I expect it wassecured too."

  He drew the massive, old-fashioned shutters out of their recess andclosed them.

  "Yes, here we are." He pointed to four groups of screw-holes at thecorners of the shutters, and, once more producing his lamp, narrowlyexamined the insides of the recesses into which the shutters folded.

  "The nature of the fastening is quite evident," said he. "An iron barpassed right across at the top and bottom and was secured by a stapleand padlock. You can see the mark the bar made in the recess when theshutters were folded. When these bars were fixed and padlocked and thebolts were shot, this room was as secure, for a prisoner unprovided withtools, as a cell in Newgate."

  We looked at one another for awhile without speaking; and I fancy thatif Mr. H. Weiss could have seen our faces he might have thought itdesirable to seek some retreat even more remote than Hamburg.

  "It was a diabolical affair, Jervis," Thorndyke said at length, in anominously quiet and even gentle tone. "A sordid, callous, cold-bloodedcrime of a type that is to me utterly unforgivable and incapable ofextenuation. Of course, it may have failed. Mr. Graves may even now bealive. I shall make it my very especial business to ascertain whether heis or not. And if he is not, I shall take it to myself as a sacred dutyto lay my hand on the man who has compassed his death."

  I looked at Thorndyke with something akin to awe. In the quietunemotional tone of his voice, in his unruffled manner and the stonycalm of his face, there was something much more impressive, morefateful, than there could have been in the fiercest threats or the mostpassionate denunciations. I felt that in those softly spoken words hehad pronounced the doom of the fugitive villain.

  He turned away from the window and glanced round the empty room. Itseemed that our discovery of the fastenings had exhausted theinformation that it had to offer.

  "It is a thousand pities," I remarked, "that we were unable to lookround before they moved out the furniture. We might have found some clueto the scoundrel's identity."

  "Yes," replied Thorndyke; "there isn't much information to be gatheredhere, I am afraid. I see they have swept up the small litter from thefloor and poked it under the grate. We will turn that over, as thereseems to be nothing else, and then look at the other rooms."

  He raked out the little heap of rubbish with his stick and spread it outon the hearth. It certainly looked unpromising enough, being just such arubbish heap as may be swept up in any untidy room during a move. ButThorndyke went through it systematically, examining each itemattentively, even to the local tradesmen's bills and empty paper bags,before laying them aside. Another rake of his stick scattered the bulkymasses of crumpled paper and brought into view an object which he pickedup with some eagerness. It was a portion of a pair of spectacles, whichhad apparently been trodden on, for the side-bar was twisted and bentand the glass was shattered into fragments.

  "This ought to give us a hint," said he. "It will probably have belongedeither to Weiss or Graves, as Mrs. Schallibaum apparently did not wearglasses. Let us see if we can find the remainder."

  We both groped carefully with our sticks amongst the rubbish, spreadingit out on the hearth and removing the numerous pieces of crumpled paper.Our search was rewarded by the discovery of the second eye-piece of thespectacles, of which the glass was badly cracked but less shattered thanthe other. I also picked up two tiny sticks at which Thorndyke lookedwith deep interest before laying them on the mantelshelf.

  "We will consider them presently," said he. "Let us finish with thespectacles first. You see that the left eye-glass is a concavecylindrical lens of some sort. We can make out that much from thefragments that remain, and we can measure the curvature when we get themhome, although that will be easier if we can collect some more fragmentsand stick them together. The right eye is plain glass; that is quiteevident. Then these will have belonged to your patient, Jervis. You saidthat the tremulous iris was in the right eye, I think?"

  "Yes," I replied. "These will be his spectacles, without doubt."

  "They are peculiar frames," he continued. "If they were made in thiscountry, we might be able to discover the maker. But we must collect asmany fragments of glass as we can."

  Once more we searched amongst the rubbish and succeeded, eventually, inrecovering some seven or eight small fragments of the brokenspectacle-glasses, which Thorndyke laid on the mantelshelf beside thelittle sticks.

  "By the way, Thorndyke," I said, taking up the latter to examine themafresh, "what are these things? Can you make anything of them?"

  He looked at them thoughtfully for a few moments and then replied:

  "I don't think I will tell you what they are. You should find that outfor yourself, and it will be well worth your while to do so. They arerather suggestive objects under the circumstances. But notice theirpeculiarities carefully. Both are portions of some smooth, stout reed.There is a long, thin stick--about six inches long--and a thicker pieceonly three inches in length. The longer piece has a little scrap of redpaper stuck on at the end; apparently a portion of a label of some kindwith an ornamental border. The other end of the stick has been brokenoff. The shorter, stouter stick has had its central cavity artificiallyenlarged so that it fits over the other to form a cap or sheath. Make acareful note of those facts and try to think what they probably mean;what would be the most likely use for an object of this kind. When youhave ascertained that, you will have learned something new about thiscase. And now, to resume our investigations. Here is a very suggestivething." He picked up a small, wide-mouthed bottle and, holding it up formy inspection, continued: "Observe the fly sticking to the inside, andthe name on the label, 'Fox, Russell Street, Covent Garden.'"

  "I don't know Mr. Fox."

  "Then I will inform you that he is a dealer in the materials for'make-up,' theatrical or otherwise, and will leave you to consider thebearing of this bottle on our present investigation. There doesn't seemto be anything else of interest in this El Dorado excepting that screw,which you notice is about the size of those with which the bolts werefastened on the doors. I don't think it is worth while to unstop any ofthe holes to try it; we should learn nothing fresh."

  He rose, and, having kicked the discarded rubbish back under the grate,gathered up his gleanings from the mantelpiece, carefully bestowing thespectacles and the fragments of glass in the tin box that he appearedalways to carry in his pocket, and wrapping the larger objects in hishandkerchief.

  "A poor collection," was his comment, as he returned the box andhandkerchief to his pocket, "and yet not so poor as I had feared.Perhaps, if we question them closely enough, these unconsidered triflesmay be made to tell us something worth learning after all. Shall we gointo the other room?"

  We passed out on to the landing and into the front room, where, guidedby experience, we made straight for the fire-place. But the little heapof rubbish there contained nothing that even Thorndyke's inquisitive eyecould view with interest. We wandered disconsolately round the room,peering into the empty cupboards and scanning the floor and the cornersby the skirting, without discovering a single object or relic of thelate occupants. In the course of my perambulations I halted by thewindow and was looking down into the street when Thorndyke called to mesharply:

  "Come away from the window, Jervis! Have you forgotten that Mrs.Schallibaum may be in the neighbourhood at this moment?"

  As a matter of fact I had entirely forgotten the matter, nor did it nowstrike me as anything but the remotest of possibilities. I replied tothat effect.

  "I don't agree with you," Thorndyke rejoined. "We have heard that shecomes here to look for letters. Probably she comes every day, or evenoftener. There is a good deal at stake, remember
, and they cannot feelquite as secure as they would wish. Weiss must have seen what view youtook of the case and must have had some uneasy moments thinking of whatyou might do. In fact, we may take it that the fear of you drove themout of the neighbourhood, and that they are mighty anxious to get thatletter and cut the last link that binds them to this house."

  "I suppose that is so," I agreed; "and if the lady should happen to passthis way and should see me at the window and recognize me, she wouldcertainly smell a rat."

  "A rat!" exclaimed Thorndyke. "She would smell a whole pack of foxes,and Mr. H. Weiss would be more on his guard than ever. Let us have alook at the other rooms; there is nothing here."

  We went up to the next floor and found traces of recent occupation inone room only. The garrets had evidently been unused, and the kitchenand ground-floor rooms offered nothing that appeared to Thorndyke worthnoting. Then we went out by the side door and down the covered way intothe yard at the back. The workshops were fastened with rusty padlocksthat looked as if they had not been disturbed for months. The stableswere empty and had been tentatively cleaned out, the coach-house wasvacant, and presented no traces of recent use excepting a half-baldspoke-brush. We returned up the covered way and I was about to close theside door, which Thorndyke had left ajar, when he stopped me.

  "We'll have another look at the hall before we go," said he; and,walking softly before me, he made his way to the front door, where,producing his lamp, he threw a beam of light into the letter-box.

  "Any more letters?" I asked.

  "Any more!" he repeated. "Look for yourself."

  I stooped and peered through the grille into the lighted interior; andthen I uttered an exclamation.

  The box was empty.

  Thorndyke regarded me with a grim smile. "We have been caught on thehop, Jervis, I suspect," said he.

  "It is queer," I replied. "I didn't hear any sound of the opening orclosing of the door; did you?"

  "No; I didn't hear any sound; which makes me suspect that she did. Shewould have heard our voices and she is probably keeping a sharp look-outat this very moment. I wonder if she saw you at the window. But whethershe did or not, we must go very warily. Neither of us must return to theTemple direct, and we had better separate when we have returned the keysand I will watch you out of sight and see if anyone is following you.What are you going to do?"

  "If you don't want me, I shall run over to Kensington and drop in tolunch at the Hornbys'. I said I would call as soon as I had an hour orso free."

  "Very well. Do so; and keep a look-out in case you are followed. I haveto go down to Guildford this afternoon. Under the circumstances, I shallnot go back home, but send Polton a telegram and take a train atVauxhall and change at some small station where I can watch theplatform. Be as careful as you can. Remember that what you have toavoid is being followed to any place where you are known, and, aboveall, revealing your connection with number Five A, King's Bench Walk."

  Having thus considered our immediate movements, we emerged together fromthe wicket, and locking it behind us, walked quickly to thehouse-agents', where an opportune office-boy received the keys withoutremark. As we came out of the office, I halted irresolutely and we bothlooked up and down the lane.

  "There is no suspicious looking person in sight at present," Thorndykesaid, and then asked: "Which way do you think of going?"

  "It seems to me," I replied, "that my best plan would be to take a cabor an omnibus so as to get out of the neighbourhood as quickly aspossible. If I go through Ravensden Street into Kennington Park Road, Ican pick up an omnibus that will take me to the Mansion House, where Ican change for Kensington. I shall go on the top so that I can keep alook-out for any other omnibus or cab that may be following."

  "Yes," said Thorndyke, "that seems a good plan. I will walk with you andsee that you get a fair start."

  We walked briskly along the lane and through Ravensden Street to theKennington Park Road. An omnibus was approaching from the south at asteady jog-trot and we halted at the corner to wait for it. Severalpeople passed us in different directions, but none seemed to take anyparticular notice of us, though we observed them rather narrowly,especially the women. Then the omnibus crawled up. I sprang on thefoot-board and ascended to the roof, where I seated myself and surveyedthe prospect to the rear. No one else got on the omnibus--which had notstopped--and no cab or other passenger vehicle was in sight. I continuedto watch Thorndyke as he stood sentinel at the corner, and noted that noone appeared to be making any effort to overtake the omnibus. Presentlymy colleague waved his hand to me and turned back towards Vauxhall, andI, having satisfied myself once more that no pursuing cab or hurryingfoot-passenger was in sight, decided that our precautions had beenunnecessary and settled myself in a rather more comfortable position.