Fay pocketed the coins and bills without counting them. He thrust his right hand under his coat, wheeled and stepped briskly to the door.
“So long!� he drawled as Clanson peered out, then turned the key. “Oh,� he added as a subtle afterthought, “what have you heard of Saidee Isaacs?�
The ex-fence coughed before he answered: “Little, lad! A gentleman was in from the west the other day—a fortnight ago, who asked the same question. Stout gentleman who used to come with you, Edward. Dutch—Dutch—â€�
“Dutch Gus!� snarled Fay, with his eyes flashing. “That rat?�
“He asked about little Saidee Isaacs. I told him the same as I tell you. I know nothing. A lady like her—with her motor car and her slavy or two, don’t happen this way often.â€�
“Motor car?� asked Fay blankly.
“The same, lad. Twice I saw it. Once in Cockspur Street, once in Piccadilly, at Berkeley Street.�
Fay fastened upon the old man a glance which flamed white fire. “Open the door!â€� he said, swinging his coat. “Let me out! Me rotting in that hell-on-earth and she in a—â€�
Clanson stared after the form of Fay as he darted over the street and swung westward. Then the ex-fence closed and chained the door.
There is a cab-stand where Regent Street leaves Piccadilly. To this stand Fay hurried, sprang into a two-wheeler, and said very distinctly to an ancient driver: