Mr. Wrench knew but too well the difficulties attending identification—mistakes were so frequently made.
He spent another day visiting all sorts of odd places in the town, and at night he went to the music-halls, taking Joe Doughty with him.
To say the truth, this honest countryman was having a fine time of it; he had seen more of life in the few days he had been under the detective’s charge than he had in the whole course of his preceding career.
Doughty was entertained, and considered that he was playing an important part; but he would have been far better pleased at finding the murderer of Master Philip.
He was under the impression that there was not much chance of their meeting with Giles Chudley, but as far as that was concerned he was not a competent judge, not having had any experience in the art of thief-catching.
In the course of the following day, Mr. Wrench paid another visit to Mrs. O’Flanagan.
On this occasion he deemed it prudent to go alone, being under the impression that the loquacious landlady might be more communicative in the absence of strangers.
“An’ sure, now, it was my own self as said you wouldn’t be afther laving the town without jist giving us a frindly call; an’ it’s happy and proud I am to see ye, Mister Wrinch. Any news about the murtherin’ divil?”
“None at all, Biddy. My search has not been attended with any satisfactory result.”
“Oh, maybe the thief o’ the world has hooked it intirely, an’ won’t show up at all.”