Mr. Wrench made direct for a public-house called “The Bag o’ Nails.” This place was nearly opposite the common lodging-house to which Rawton was known to repair. The detective’s object was to keep watch and ward over the entrance to the lodging-house from the front-floor window of the public opposite. He argued shrewdly enough that as the night wore on, the gipsy would pass in to the lodging-house in question, and when this had taken place, Mr. Wench proposed paying a visit to the establishment and capturing the runaway horse-stealer.
The front room first floor of the “Bag ’o Nails” was used by the Foresters, who held their weekly meetings there. On the evening in question it was vacant, and this Mr. Wrench knew perfectly well.
The detective was known to the landlord of the house, and a few explanatory words in the bar parlour with that worthy sufficed to make him comprehend that our two detectives wanted the use of the room for a few hours, and this was at once acceded them.
They took up their station close by the window, but like bashful gentlemen as they were, they did not court the public gaze. Far from it—they concealed themselves, as well as they could conveniently do so, behind the thick wire blind which obscured the lower part of the window. There was a flaming gaslight immediately in front of the lodging-house, so that there was but little difficulty in observing those who entered the place after dark.
Some brandy cold was ordered by the two detectives, who, after it had been brought in, closed the door, and took up their stations.
“You know best, I suppose,” said Shearman, “but I should say the fellow would never be fool enough to betake himself to his old quarters since he must know he’s wanted.”
“Well, he’s hard up, and has no other place to go to, I believe. Anyway, there is a chance, and I don’t care to miss it.”
It is weary work watching and waiting in cases of this sort, and the outside world has probably no idea of the patience and unremitting attention which detectives have at times to exercise.
In this case, however, Wrench had a companion, and that in a measure beguiled the tediousness of the hours.
“The doctor’s wife must have been a beautiful woman in her early days,” said Shearman. “Indeed, she is so now, to my thinking.”