"By all means come with me," said Jim, "I shall choose a quiet hotel in the West End, and you must amuse yourself as best you can while I am absent."
Later in the evening he wrote a note to his sweetheart informing her of his decision, and promising to let her know, day by day, what success attended his efforts.
Next morning they left Childerbridge Station at eleven o'clock for London. As the train steamed out of the village past the little churchyard, Jim looked down upon his father's grave, which he could just see on the eastern side of the church.
"Dear father," he muttered to himself, "If have to devote the rest of my life in bringing your murderer to justice, I'll do it."
CHAPTER VII
It was considerably past midday by the time Jim and his sister, accompanied by Terence, reached London. On arriving at Paddington, they engaged a cab and drove to the hotel they had selected, a private establishment leading out of Piccadilly. Terence's amazement at the size of London was curious to witness. Hitherto he had regarded Melbourne as stupendous, now it struck him that that town was a mere village compared with this giant Metropolis. When he noted the constant stream of traffic, the crowds that thronged the pavements, and the interminable streets, his heart misgave him concerning the enterprise upon which he had so confidently embarked.
"Bless my soul, how many people can there be in London?" he asked, as they drove up to the hotel.
"Something over five millions," Jim replied. "It's a fair-sized township."
"And we are going to look for one man," continued the other. "I guess it would be easier to find a scrubber in the mallee than to get on the track of a man who is hiding himself here."
"Nevertheless we've got to find him somehow," said Jim. "That's the end of the matter."
After lunch he sent word to Terence that he wished him to accompany him on his first excursion. Up to that time he had formed no definite plan of action, but it was borne in upon him that he could do nothing at all until he had visited the eating-house to which Murbridge had been traced after his arrival at Paddington Station. They accordingly made their way to the house in question. It proved to be an uninviting place, with a sawdust-covered floor, and half-a-dozen small tables arranged along one side. On the other was a counter upon which were displayed a variety of covered dishes and huge tea cups. At the moment of Jim's entering the proprietor was giving his attention to a steaming pan of frying onions.
"What can I do for you, sir?" he asked, as he removed the frying-pan from the gas and came forward.
"I want five minutes' conversation with you in private, if you will give it to me," Jim replied, and then in a lower voice he added: "I stand in need of some information which I have been told you are in a position to supply. I need not say that I shall be quite willing to recompense you for any loss of time or trouble you may be put to."
"In that case I shall be very happy to oblige you, sir," the man replied civilly enough. "That is to say, if it is in my power to do so. Will you be good enough to step this way?"
Pulling down his shirt-sleeves, which until that moment had been rolled up, and slipping on a greasy coat, he led the way from the shop to a tiny apartment leading out of it. It was very dirty and redolent of onions and bad tobacco. Its furniture was scanty, and comprised a table, covered with American cloth, a cupboard, and two wooden chairs, upon one of which James was invited to seat himself. Terence, who had followed them, took the other, while he surveyed its owner with evident disfavour.
"And now, sir," said that individual, "I should be glad if you can tell me what I can do for you. If it's about the Board School election, well, I'll tell you at once, straight out, as man to man, that I ain't a-goin'
to vote for either party. There was a young wagabond that I engaged the other day. He had had a Board School edecation, and it had taught him enough to be able to humbug me with his takings. Thirteen and elevenpence-'alfpenny was what he stole from me. And as I said to the missus only last night, 'No more Board School lads for me!' But there, sir, p'raps you ain't a-got nothing to do with them?"
"I certainly have not," James replied. "I am here on quite a different matter. Of course you remember the police visiting you a short time since, with regard to a man who was suspected of being the murderer of Mr. Standerton, at Childerbridge, in Midlandshire?"
"Remember it?" the man replied, "I should think I did. And haven't I got good cause to remember it? I was nigh being worritted to death by 'em.
First it was one, and then it was another, hanging about here and asking questions. Had I seen the man? Did I know where he had gone? What was he like? Till with one thing and another I was most driven off my head. I won't say as how a detective oughtn't to ask questions, because we all know it's his duty, but when it comes to interferin' with a man's private business and drivin' his customers away from the shop--for I won't make no secrets with you that there is folks as eats at my table as is not in love with 'tecs--well, then I say, if it comes to that, it's about time a man put his foot down."
"My case is somewhat different," said James. "In the first place, I am not a detective, but the son of the gentleman who was murdered."
"Good gracious me! you don't say so," said the man, regarding him with astonishment and also with evident appreciation. "Now that makes all the difference. It's only fit and proper that a young gentleman should want to find out the man who, so to speak, had given him such a knock-down blow. Ask me what questions you like, sir, and I'll do my best to answer 'em."
"Well, first and foremost," said Jim, "I want to know how you became aware that the man in question hailed from Childerbridge? He wouldn't have been likely to say so."
"No, you're right there," the man replied. "He didn't say so, but I knew it, because after he had had his meal, my girl was giving him 'is change, I saw there was a Childerbridge label on the small bag he carried in his hand. I put it to you, sir, if he hadn't been there, would that label have been on the bag?"
"Of course it would not. And he answered to the description given you?"
"To a T, sir. Same sort of face, same sort of dress, snarly manner of speaking, spotted bird's-eye necktie and all."
"It must have been the man. And now another question. You informed the police, did you not, that you had no knowledge as to where he went after he left your shop?"
The man fidgetted uneasily in his chair for a moment, and drummed with his fingers upon the cover of the table. It was evident that he was keeping something back, and was trying to make up his mind as to whether he should divulge his information or not.
Here James played a good game, and with a knowledge of human character few people would have supposed him to possess, took from his pocket a sovereign, which he laid on the table before the other.
"There," he said, "is a sovereign. I can see that you are keeping something back from me. Now, that money is yours whether you tell me or not. If it is likely to affect your happiness don't let me know, but if you can, I shall be glad if you will tell me all you know."
"Spoken like a gentleman, sir," the other replied, "and I don't mind if I do tell you, though it may get me into trouble with some of my customers if you give me away. You see, sir, round about here in this neighbourhood, a man has to be careful of what he says and does. Suppose it was to come to the ears of some people that it was me as gave the information that got the bloke arrested, well then, they'd be sure to say to 'emselves, 'he's standin' in with the perlice, and we don't go near his shop again.' Do you take my meaning, sir?"
"I quite understand," James replied. "I appreciate your difficulty, but you may be quite sure that I will not mention your name in connection with any information you may give me."
"Spoken and acted like a gentleman again, sir," said the shopman. "Now I'll tell you what I know. I didn't tell the 'tecs,' becos they didn't treat me any too well. But this is what I _do_ know, sir. As he went out of the door he asked my little boy, Tommy, wot was playing on the pavement, how far it was to Great Medlum Street? The boy gave him the direction, and then he went off."
"Great Medlum Street?" said James, and made a note of the name in his pocket-book. "And how far may that be from here?"
"Not more than ten minutes' walk," the other replied. "Go along this street, then take the third turning to your left and the first on the right. You can't make no mistake about it."
"And what kind of a street is it?" Jim enquired. "I mean, what sort of character does it bear?"
"Well, sir, that's more than I can tell you," said the other. "For all I know to the contrary, it's a fairish sort of street, not so fust-class as some others I could name, but there's a few decent people living in it."
"And do you happen to have anything else to tell me about him?"
"That's all I know, sir," said the other. "I haven't set eyes on him from that blessed moment until this, and I don't know as I want to."
"I am very much obliged to you," said Jim, rising and putting his pocket-book away. "You have given me great assistance."
"I'm sure you're very welcome, sir," replied the man. "I am always ready to do anything I can for a gentleman. It's the Board School folk that----"
Before the man could finish his sentence, Jim was in the shop once more, and was making his way towards the door, closely followed by Terence.
"Now the first question to be decided," he said, when they were in the street, "is what is best for us to do? If I go to Great Medlum Street, it is more than likely that Murbridge will see me and make off again; while, if I wait to communicate with Robins, I may lose him altogether."
Eventually it was decided that he should not act on his own initiative, but should communicate with Detective Robins, and let him make enquiries in the neighbourhood in question. A note was accordingly despatched to the authorities at Scotland Yard. In it James informed them that it had come to his knowledge that the man Murbridge was supposed to be residing in Great Medlum Street, though in what house could not be stated. Later in the day Robins himself put in an appearance at the hotel.
"You received my letter?" James asked when they were alone together.
"I did, sir," the man answered, "and acted upon it at once."
"And with what result?"
"Only to discover that our man has slipped through our fingers once more," said the detective. "He left Great Medlum Street two days ago. Up to that time he had lodged at number eighteen. The landlady informs me that she knows nothing as to his present whereabouts. He passed under the name of Melbrook, and was supposed by the other lodgers to be an American."
"You are quite certain that it is our man?"