‘Only this. Can you remember what sort of boots this man Douglas wore?’
‘Well, they were small, like himself. Small boots like you’d expect a boy to wear.’
‘With nails in the soles?’
‘Just that. Guess, mister, you’re a ’tec?’
Tanner nodded.
‘From Scotland Yard,’ he answered. ‘I’m after that man Douglas, and if you can tell me anything about him, I’ll make it worth your while.’
The man whistled.
‘Gosh! but I just thought he was a wrong ’un. Wot’s ’e been up to, mister?’
‘Never mind now. Why did you think he was a wrong ’un?’
‘W’y, ’e looked scared fit to die. ’E ’ad something worrying ’im, ’e ’ad.’