"He did, sir, and me later. Butsey I fancy didn't go back till Saturday. But I can't be sure of this."
"You don't seem to be sure of anything," said Allen tartly. "Well, I can't say your information is worth much, Wasp."
"Hold on, sir. I've got the address of the folk in Whitechapel who brought the children down. If you look them up, they may know something of Butsey."
"True enough. Give me the address."
Wasp consented, and wrote it out in a stiff military hand, while Allen went on artfully, "Was any weapon found at the Red Deeps?"
"No, sir," said Wasp, handing his visitor the address of the Whitechapel Mission, which Allen put in his pocket-book. "I wish the revolver had been found, then we'd see if the bullet fitted."
"Only one bullet was found."
"Only one, sir. Dr. Grace got it out of the body. It is the bullet which caused the death, and I got Inspector Garrit to leave it with me. Perhaps you'd like to see it, sir?"
"Oh, don't trouble," said Allen carelessly. "I can't say anything about it, Wasp."
"Being a gentleman as has travelled you might know something, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, and went to a large tin box, which was inscribed with his name and the number of his former regiment, in white letters. From this he took out a packet, and opening it, extracted a small twist of paper. Then he placed the bullet in Allen's hand.