"Hudson fire?" Gabby repeated, gazing at the Shroff perplexedly.
"Hold it!" Lennox said. "Could it have been the Hudson School of Firearms?"
"Yes. Yes."
"What's that?" Gabby asked.
"A shooting range over near the river. Oliver Stacy told me about it last week. I must have gone there Saturday night. Let's go."
Lennox opened the door of the lead cab. Gabby ripped a page out of her sketch book and handed it to the Shroff. It was his portrait.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Fu," she said. "You've been so helpful."
The Shroff gazed at his portrait with admiration and then at Gabby with more. "I go with you," he offered suddenly. "Be ve'y happy to help you and Missa Lennox find Missa Knott. Yes?"
"I do like you, Mr. Fu," Gabby said. "You're not inscrutable at all. Please come. We can use all the help we can get."
The Shroff entered the cab with them and they drove across town to the waterfront where a sign on a doorway between a chandler's store and a window filled with broken microscopes read: Hudson School of Firearms, Dn. 2 Flights.