And here, presumably, Lambert broke off to indulge in a laugh.
Near midnight on the same day he continued his diary, but there was no reference to Joseph Pitou or Louis Lorenz.
"At three o'clock called on Dr. Pye. An old woman opened the door. 'Dr. Pye at home?' I asked. 'Not at home,' she answered. 'Take my card up to him,' I said. 'Not at home,' she repeated, and jammed my leg in the door. I remonstrated. 'Take your leg away,' she said. Seeing that she was determined, and having no authority to enter the house, I took my leg away, and she slammed the door in my face. Faithful creature--and well paid for her services, I'll swear. Told the lie with a face of brass, for a lie it was. Dr. Pye was at home. Where is my maid from Norfolk? She was seen to leave the house on Saturday morning. Cab at the door. Small japanned box brought out, containing her wardrobe. Cab drove off with box on the roof and my Norfolk maid inside. I ought to have had more than one man on the watch, for then I should have known where the cab drove to. Most probably to a railway station, to take my maid to her native village. Norfolk has many villages. Why was Dr. Pye so anxious to be rid of her? Answer--because she did not slam the door in my face, as the old woman did.
"With the exception of two visits from Mr. Ezra Lynn (from the description given of the man there could be no mistake it was he) there has been nothing discovered. These visits were made on Saturday night and last night. On each occasion he came at eight o'clock. On Saturday night he remained two hours, last night he remained three. Dr. Pye has not been seen to leave the house. From the tradesmen who call there nothing has been learned. The establishment is carried on on ready money lines. Everything sent home is paid for at the servants' entrance. As a ready money customer Dr. Pye bears a good name in the neighbourhood.
"I was not content with one visit to Dr. Pye to-day. At five o'clock I presented myself again--on official business. The same old woman opened the door. 'Dr. Pye at home?' 'Not at home.' 'I must see him.' 'Not at home.' There was no chance of my putting my leg inside; the door was on the chain. 'I serve this notice upon him,' I said, thrusting the paper into the old woman's hand. 'It is an order for him to appear as a witness at the Bishop Street Police Court next Friday morning, the 22nd of March, at eleven o'clock, to give evidence in the case of the murder of Samuel Boyd.' The woman took the notice, and left me alone once more on the wrong side of the door.
"I have treated Mr. Rawdon, the contentious juryman, to a sight of me on three separate occasions. Not a word have I addressed to him; I have simply given him to understand in a silent manner that he is under observation. He does understand it, and does not appear to be very comfortable.
"Where is Mr. Dick Remington? He has not been seen by any of my people since Thursday last. Has he been spirited away? Is there any connection between his disappearance and the disappearance of Abel Death? To both questions I answer, no. The notice of his absence still remains on the house in Catchpole Square. Applebee informs me that the door of that house has not been opened from the day the notice was posted on it. He is keeping close watch upon the house, and I am keeping close watch upon him. When he makes a move, or discovers anything, I shall be at hand. Things can't remain in this quiet state much longer. Some time this week there will be a flare up. Don't you think so?"
CHAPTER LVIII.
[THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.]
While Detective Lambert was making these entries, events of which he had no suspicion were progressing in another quarter. Some premonition of startling incidents soon to happen must have been very strong within him, or he would not have been out of bed a couple of hours after midnight, prowling, in a safe disguise, in the vicinity of Catchpole Square and Shore Street. Constable Applebee came across him twice without recognising him, although Lambert gave him every opportunity, asking him on both occasions the way to Holborn. Lambert apparently was the worse for drink, and Applebee would probably have had more to say to him, and might indeed have "run him in" as a suspicious character had it not been for the interest he took in the immediate neighbourhood of Samuel Boyd's house, to which particular spot he devoted more attention than was consistent with his duties on the space of ground covered by his beat. The second time Lambert asked him the way to Holborn, the constable proffered a sensible piece of advice, to the effect that the man would be better in bed, to which he was advised to go if he did not wish to get into trouble. "Is that your advice?" asked Lambert, with a tipsy lurch. "Yes, it is," replied Applebee, "and if you're not a born fool you'll take it." "I'd have you know," retorted Lambert, "that I'm a respectable mechanic, and my advice to you is not to be so cocky. I'd make as good a bobby as you any day in the week." This angered Applebee, but did not move him to retaliatory action, and Lambert walked off, laughing in his sleeve. His light mood did not last long. Dark clouds were coming into the sky; a few drops of rain fell. There was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. "We shall have a storm," he muttered.