side of Piccadilly, so the chances are that he will
not get very far, and that his wanderings will end in surrender or
starvation. But Scotland Yard cannot wait for him to surrender, and
Merrington, with an imagination stimulated by the necessity of finding
him, decides in favour of Islington--the so-called Merry Islington of
obsequious London chroniclers, though, so far as my personal observation
goes, its inhabitants are merry only when in liquor. Islington is
congested, Islington contains criminals, and Islington is an ideal
hiding-place. Therefore, says Merrington, let us seek our man there."

"Oh, come, Mr. Colwyn, you don't put me off like that. Somebody must
have told you that I was out there to-day."

"I saw you myself. As a matter of fact, I have been looking for Nepcote
in that part of London--in an area between Farringdon Street and
Euston."

"Why there in particular? London is a wide field."

"I have endeavoured to narrow it by considering the possibilities. The
suburbs are unsafe, and so is the West End; the City affords no shelter
for a fugitive. There remain the poorer congested areas, the docks, and
the East End. But that does not help us very much, because there is
still a vast field left. What narrowed it considerably for me is my
strong belief, taking all the circumstances into consideration, that
Nepcote has not got very far from where we last saw him. What finally
determined me to select Islington as a starting point for my search was
that strange law of human gravitation which impels a fugitive to seek a
criminal quarter for shelter. A hunted man seems to develop a keen scent
for those who, like himself, are outside the law. Islington, as you are
aware, has a large percentage of criminals in its population. At any
rate, I am looking for Nepcote in Islington."

"Although I could pick flaws in your theory, I am bound to say that you
are right," said Caldew. "Nepcote is hiding in Islington. At least, we
think so," he cautiously added.

"Good! How did you find out?"

Caldew gave his companion particulars of the pawnbroker's visit to
Scotland Yard that morning.

"I have been looking for Mr. Hobbs' marked shilling in the small shops
between King's Cross and Upper Street all the afternoon," he said. "I
traced it quite by accident after I had decided to give up the attempt.
One of the uniformed men at the _Angel_ happened to tell me, as a joke,
about a coffeestall keeper who had gone to him in a f