“You won’t find it easy to discover him in this fog,” said Dick dryly, and with Alan took his immediate leave, for there seemed no necessity to remain and listen to Miss Grison’s wrath which was that of an unreasonable woman obsessed by one bitter idea.
The fog was still thick, and Fuller remarked that he wondered how Moon had managed to get a cab. “We couldn’t do it, Dick.”
“The fog gets lighter at times and then thick again,” said Latimer absently. “I suppose when Moon took his cab, traffic was resumed for the moment.”
“It seems to have stopped now,” answered Alan, trying to peer into the darkness blurred by the street lamps. “Let us go home. Why do you want to go to the Bow Street office again?”
“I only wished to learn the latest details with an eye to copy,” said Dick, “but I think I shall leave things until to-morrow, as I am quite tired out.”
Having arrived at this conclusion, the two groped their way back to Chancery Lane and to Barkers Inn. The true reason why Latimer had so readily yielded to Fuller’s suggestion was that he greatly desired to learn if Sorley had again sought shelter with them. But on entering their chambers they found that no one had come during their absence, and Dick heaved a sigh of relief, which was echoed by Alan.
“I’m glad he didn’t come back,” remarked Alan, “we should have had to give him up.”
“I think he knew as much, and so did not return. However, the fog will afford him an excellent chance of escape, and I doubt if he will be caught a second time. What’s the matter?”
“The black bag,” gasped Fuller, pointing to an article of that description which was on a chair in the corner of the room, “he mentioned that when he went away with Moon.” Alan picked up the bag. “What is in it?”
“The peacock for a hundred pounds,” cried Dick swiftly.