“Then there is nothing I could do that would assist in clearing up the mystery of Mr. Gildersleeve’s disappearance?” insisted Hammond.
“No—not a thing. Your plan is to return to the Nannabijou Limits this afternoon as quietly as possible,” suggested the legal man. “There you had best resume your former rôle until such time as you are communicated with.”
“That sounds very well,” impatiently commented Hammond, “but, in the event of Mr. Gildersleeve having disappeared permanently, I might remain there for a very long time without any particular purpose being served.”
“In such a case I will personally take the responsibility of instructing you when to return,” assured Winch. “Furthermore, I will take it upon myself to guarantee that you are paid for your services according to the verbal contract between yourself and Mr. Gildersleeve.”
Hammond hesitated a moment. He was thinking about Josephine Stone and the possibilities of being near her again; otherwise he would not have entertained any proposal to return to the limits under the circumstances.
Before he could reply, however, there came sounds of a loud commotion from somewhere on the streets outside; jeers, the shrill cries of young boys and the rush of many feet.
IV
Winch rose from his desk and hurried to the window. As he looked out his face went grey with alarm and his lips moved in a single gasp:—
Hammond was at his side in a trice. The window overlooked the short street leading up from the city dock, where, in a surging crowd of men and street urchins, two red-coated policemen of the Canadian mounted force were escorting up the street a tall, black-whiskered man in dark baggy clothes.