o do?" I asked.

"Well, of course, if you see Mayes in the open, grab him instantly. I
needn't tell Plummer _that_. I think Plummer would naturally seize him
on the spot, rush him off to the nearest station and go back with enough
men to clear out No. 8 Norbury Row. If you don't see him you'll keep an
observation, according to Plummer's discretion. But, unless some
exceptional chance occurs, I hope you won't go rushing in till we
communicate with each other--we must work together, and I may have news.
My instinct seems to tell me that yours is the right end of the stick,
at Barbican. But we must neglect nothing, and that is why I want you to
hold on there while I make the necessary examination at the other end.
Do you know this Norbury Row, Plummer?"

"I think I know every street and alley in the City," Plummer answered.
"There is a very good publican at the corner of Norbury Row, who's been
useful to the police a score of times. He keeps his eyes open, and I
shall be surprised if he can't give us _some_ information about No. 8,
anyhow. Moon's his name, and the house is 'The Compasses.' I shall go
there first. And if you've any message to send, send it through him.
I'll tell him."

On the stairs Plummer and I encountered another of his assistants.
"I've got the cab, sir," he reported. "Waiting outside now. Took up a
fare in Whitehall, opposite the Admiralty, and drove him to Charterhouse
Street; got down just by the Meat Market. That's all the man seems to
know."

Plummer questioned the cabman, and found that as a matter of fact that
was all he did know. So, telling him to wait to take us our little
journey, we returned and reported his information to Hewitt.

"Just as I expected," he said, quietly. "He stopped the cab a bit short
of his destination, of course,--just as you will, no doubt. There's not
a great deal in the evidence, but it confirms my idea."

II

We followed Mayes's example by stopping the cab in Charterhouse Street,
and walking the short remaining distance to Barbican. Norbury Row was an
obscure street behind it, at the corner of which stood "The Compasses,"
the public-house which Plummer had mentioned. We did not venture to show
ourselves in Norbury Row, but hastened into the nearest door of "The
Compasses," which chanced to be that of the private bar.

A stout, red-faced, slow-moving man with one eye and a black patch,
stood behind the bar. Plummer lifted his finger and pointed quickly