“That’s what I thought. I wonder who could tell me.”
“I was on duty upstairs,” the porter said. “I remember some people. S’matter of fact, I remember the bloke what did ’imself in. I saw ’im come into the hooking ’all and buy a ticket. I noticed ’im because ’e seemed a hit upset like.”
“How do you mean—upset?” George asked sharply.
“Well, I dunno,” the porter said, scowling in an attempt to concentrate. “Sort of worried, kept looking over ’is shoulder like ’e expected someone to meet ’im.”
George went cold. “You say you remember some other people?”
“That’s right. Two foreign-looking blokes came into the station and bought tickets a few minutes before your friend arrived. I particularly noticed them. Little blokes in black, wearing cloth caps.”
“Go on,” George said in a husky whisper.
“Well, your friend came in, and about a couple of minutes after—by the time ’e’d got down on the platform, I should say—a big woman arrived. She ’ad a lot of yellow ’air, and I noticed ’er because she was a bit like my old woman, fair busting out of ’er dress she was.”
“I see.” So it had been murder, after all. “And none of these people were on the platform when he was found?”
“That’s right, but of course they could lave taken the up train on the other platform. It don’t mean because they were down ’ere they saw anything.”