"Wishing her good-night again, he left the house, and heard her close the street door behind him with a bang.
"It was not without a motive that our reporter had addressed his last words to her. He had an idea that she had not been quite frank with him respecting M. Felix's visitors feeling assured that she could not be so entirely in the dark regarding them as she professed to be. His visit had not been fruitless; he had become acquainted with the loss of the desk, and he had discovered the dagger with its curiously shaped handle. Two steps advanced in the mystery, which might lead to something of importance.
"He walked slowly on, revolving these matters in his mind, and debating whether he could make any present use of them when his coat was plucked by a small hand. Looking down, he saw Sophy.
"'Ah, Sophy,' he said, 'what do you want?'
"'I've been waiting for yer,' said Sophy. 'I've got somethink to tell.'
"'Good. Where shall we talk?'
"Sophy's reply was a strange one. 'I know,' she said, where they sells fried fish and fried 'taters.' She smacked her lips.
"'You would like some?'
"'Wouldn't I? Jest?'
"'Lead the way, Sophy.'