"What did you notice in him?"
"That his face was pock-marked, and that he had a club foot."
"Was he tall or short?"
"Short."
"Did they see you looking at them?"
"I think so, because just then they turned the other way."
"And did you not follow them?"
"What should I follow them for?"
I pressed him hard, but he could tell me nothing more.
All the way back to London my thoughts ran chiefly on this club-footed, pock-marked Jack. Such a business as mine brings a man into queer company, and, without boasting, I may say that I am acquainted with half the bad characters in London. Some years ago I was a detective in the police force, but thinking I could do better, I said good-bye to Scotland Yard, and started a private office of my own. I like a free hand, and I got it and have done well with it.