“Does Mr. Hagn get many notes by District Messenger?”
“Very few, sir,” said the doorkeeper, and added an anxious inquiry as to his own fate.
“You can go,” said Elk. “Under escort,” he added, “to your own home. You’re not to communicate with anybody, or tell any of the servants here that I have made inquiries about this letter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
To make assurance doubly sure, Elk had called up exchange and placed a ban upon all ’phone communications. It was now a quarter to two, and, leaving half-a-dozen detectives in charge of the club, he got the remainder on to the car that had brought them, and, accompanied by Dick, went full speed for Tottenham.
Within a hundred yards of Eldor Street the car stopped and unloaded. The first essential was that whoever was meeting No. 7 in Eldor Street should not be warned of their approach. It was more than possible that Frog scouts would be watching at each end of the street.
“I don’t know why they should,” said Elk, when Dick put this possibility forward.
“I can give you one very excellent reason,” said Dick quietly. “It is this: that the Frogs know all about your previous visit to Maitland’s slum residence.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Elk in surprise, but Dick did not enlighten him.
Sending the men round by circuitous routes, he went forward with Elk, and at the very corner of Eldor Street, Elk found that his chief’s surmise was well founded. Under a lamp-post Elk saw the dim figure of a man standing, and instantly began an animated and raucous conversation concerning a mythical Mr. Brown. Realizing that this was intended for the watcher, Gordon joined in. The man under the lamp-post hesitated just a little too long. As they came abreast of him, Elk turned.