He proceeded to give divers illustrations of the gate-keeper's smartness until they arrived at the gate, where Kenly received the introduction he desired. The inspector retired with his new acquaintance into the little hutch with the big glass window where the gate-keeper kept watch during his hours of duty, and proceeded to put questions. He gave no hint of the object he had in view. In fact, he invented a purely fictitious reason to account for his enquiries, for, when professionally engaged, the detective had the very faintest respect for the truth, though in private life he would have felt horribly ashamed of the slightest deviation from exact fact. He declared that he suspected a man in Hora's employ of being concerned in some undefined criminal practices.
"Which man? The old one or the new?" asked the gate-keeper promptly.
"The new one," answered Kenly boldly.
"Not surprised to hear it at all," was the answer. "But if you had said the last man, I could have soon told you you were on the wrong track, for, saving the fact that he would lift his elbow too frequently, there was not a scrap of vice in poor James Under."
"I suppose that's why he left?" hazarded Kenly.
"Yes," said the porter. "I wasn't on the gate that night, or I would have seen that he didn't make a fool of himself. He came home, so he told me, blind to the world, went up to Mr. Hora's chambers, and when, in answer to his ring, his boss opened the door, he tumbled down inside. So next morning off he went."
"Poor chap," said the Inspector. "Do you know where he's to be found. I might put something in his way."
The gate-keeper searched amongst a number of scraps of paper, unearthing one which had an address scribbled upon it. "He left it with me in case I should hear of a berth going," he explained.
"I'll look him up when I have time," said Kenly. He was copying the address into his note-book, when the gate-keeper nudged his arm.
"Here's the new man," he whispered.