They
walked back to the place at which they had met, shaking hands
there with an audacious cordiality which it quite sickened me to
see. They then separated. I followed Mr. Jay. My subordinates
paid the same delicate attention to the other two.
Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr. Jay led me to
the Strand. He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house,
which, according to the inscription over the door, was a
newspaper office, but which, in my judgment, had all the external
appearance of a place devoted to the reception of stolen goods.
After remaining inside for a few minutes, he came out whistling,
with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. Some men would
now have arrested him on the spot. I remembered the necessity of
catching the two confederates, and the importance of not
interfering with the appointment that had been made for the next
morning. Such coolness as this, under trying circumstances, is
rarely to be found, I should imagine, in a young beginner, whose
reputation as a detective policeman is still to make.
From the house of suspicious appearance Mr. Jay betook himself to
a cigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot. From the
divan he strolled to the tavern and had his chops. I strolled to
the tavern and had my chops.
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