y of it, if that's better. There is no
sign of drawing back in him; and as I recollect this place, we must be
close upon the corner where we alighted that night.'

In fact, a few abrupt turns brought them to the river side, where they
had slipped about among the stones, and where they now slipped more; the
wind coming against them in slants and flaws, across the tide and the
windings of the river, in a furious way. With that habit of getting
under the lee of any shelter which waterside characters acquire, the
waterside character at present in question led the way to the leeside of
the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters before he spoke.

'Look round here, Lawyer Lightwood, at them red curtains. It's the
Fellowships, the 'ouse as I told you wouldn't run away. And has it run
away?'

Not showing himself much impressed by this remarkable confirmation of
the informer's evidence, Lightwood inquired what other business they had
there?

'I wished you to see the Fellowships for yourself, Lawyer Lightwood,
that you might judge whether I'm a liar; and now I'll see Gaffer's
window for myself, that we may know whether he's at home.'

With that, he crept away.

'He'll come back, I suppose?' murmured Lightwood.

'Ay! and go through with it,' murmured Eugene.

He came back after a very short interval indeed.

'Gaffer's out, and his boat's out. His daughter's at home, sitting
a-looking at the fire. But there's some supper getting ready, so
Gaffer's expected. I can find what move he's upon, easy enough,
presently.'

Then he beckoned and led the way again, and they came to the
police-station, still as clean and cool and steady as before, saving
that the flame of its lamp--being but a lamp-flame, and only attached to
the Force as an outsider--flickered in the wind.

Also, within doors, Mr Inspector was at his studies as of yore.
He recognized the friends the instant they reappeared, but their
reappearance had no effect on his composure. Not even the circumstance
that Riderhood was their conductor moved him, otherwise than that as he
took a dip of ink he seemed, by a settlement of his chin in his stock,
to propound to that personage, without looking at him, the question,
'What have YOU been up to, last?'

Mortimer Lightwood asked him, would he be so good as look at those
notes? Handing him Eugene's.

Having read the first few lines, Mr Inspector mounted to that (for him)
extraordinary pitch of emotion that he said, 'Does either of