He had done a tremendous lot of work in the way of putting out nets.
He had as complete a list as could be obtained of the lodging-houses in the neighbourhood, every early morning coffee stall in Kensington and Bayswater had been kept under surveillance, also the newspaper shops. The tube stations at Notting Hill Gate, Holland Park, Shepherd’s Bush, and Queen’s Road, Bayswater, had been watched, and the result, up to this had been the arrest of one man who had easily proved his identity and the fact of his innocence.
The bother was that Klein’s description as to dress could not be given. Only the fact that he was pale, clean-shaven, of the middle height and spoke with a German accent.
“How fortunate,” cried Hellier; “you are the very person I wished most to see.”
“Mr Hellier, I believe,” replied the other, who did not seem at all enthusiastic at the meeting. “What can I do for you?”
“Will you walk a few paces down the street?”
“Certainly.”
“It’s this way,” said Hellier. “I read in the papers this morning of a crime.”
“Which?”
“The murder of Mr Goldberg.”