‘Gone with it?’
‘Yes. Some toff in blue clothes an’ a black beard came up an’ give ’im a paper, an’ when ’e’d read it ’e calls out an’ sez, sez ’e, ‘’Elp me swing out this ’ere cask,’ ’e says. We ’elps ’im, an’ ’e puts it on a ’orse dray—a four-wheeler. An’ then they all goes off, ’im an’ the cove in the blue togs walkin’ together after the dray.’
‘Any name on the dray?’ asked Mr. Avery.
‘There was,’ replied the spokesman, ‘but I’m blessed if I knows what it was. ’Ere Bill, you was talking about that there name. Where was it?’
Another man spoke.
‘It was Tottenham Court Road, it was. But I didn’t know the street, and I thought that a strange thing, for I’ve lived off the Tottenham Court Road all my life.’
‘Was it East John Street?’ asked Inspector Burnley.
‘Ay, it was something like that. East or West. West, I think. An’ it was something like John. Not John, but something like it.’
‘What colour was the dray?’
‘Blue, very fresh and clean.’