He chose to first drop in at the Monica, and from there make his way to “Jimmy’s� or the St. James Hotel, which at one time was a meeting place for international celebrities and flash denizens of the underworld.
The long bar at the Monica was strangely free from patrons. Fay ordered Rhine wine and seltzer, which was equivalent to a soft drink.
The bar-maid turned away as he spun a shilling over the bar. Fay, on the alert, and with the doctor’s bag between his feet, caught a glance exchanged between the girl and a lone figure at the end of the bar.
He sipped the drink and searched his brain for an answer to the signal which he had detected. It came to him with sudden flash. The man was from the Yard. The girl had recognized an old acquaintance in the plaid-capped visitor.
Fay acted with the quick wit of the professional. He glided along the bar and held out his hand. The smile he bestowed upon the inspector broke down a staid Scotch reserve.
“Well, have you found him yet?� he asked cautiously.
The man from Scotland Yard winced.
“I mean Dutch Gus,� whispered Fay.
“No!� The answer was solemn and from the heart.
“And it’s been five years?�