“Digby?” said the other in surprise. “I thought he was on duty?”
“He’s been here since just after you left, sir. If I’d known where you had gone, I’d have sent him to you.”
Digby came out of the waiting-room at that moment, ready to apologize.
“I had to see you, sir, and I’m sorry I’m away from my post.”
“You may not be missing much,” said Manfred unsmilingly. “Come upstairs and tell me all about it.”
Digby’s story was a strange one. He had gone down that afternoon to the canal bank to make a reconnaissance of ground which was new to him.
“I’m glad I did too, because the walls have got broken glass on top. I went up into the Old Kent Road and bought a garden hoe, and prised the mortar loose, so that if I wanted, I could get over. And then I climbed round the water-gate and had a look at that barge of his. There was nobody about, though I think they spotted me afterwards. It is a fairly big barge, and, of course, in a terrible state, but the hold is full of cargo—you know that, sir?”
“You mean there is something in the barge?”
Digby nodded.
“Yes, it has a load of some kind. The after part, where the bargee’s sleeping quarters are, is full of rats and water, but the fore part of the vessel is water-tight, and it holds something heavy too. That is why the barge is down by its head in the mud. I was in the Thames police and I know a lot about river craft.”