"Did you hear what address she gave the cabman?"
"What do you want to know for, sir?" asked the policeman, in a gruff way.
"That is my business and not yours," retorted Fanks, unused to being thwarted by members of the force; "I am Fanks, the detective, and I am here on business. Quick, man, the address?"
As Maxwell had hinted that a detective was upstairs, the policeman at once believed this statement and saluted respectfully. "She didn't give no perticler address, but she jest said Piccadilly promiscus."
"What part of Piccadilly?" demanded Fanks, hailing a hansom.
"Jest Piccadilly, and no more, sir," repeated the officer.
"Do you know the number of the cab?"
"No, sir; there weren't no occasion of me to take it."
"Of course, of course," muttered Fanks, testily. "Can you describe the hansom? Was there any particular mark, by which I can recognise it?"
"Well, sir, I did note as it had a red, white, and blue suncloth over the roof, with a cabby as wore a white beaver, so to speak."