"As I say, master, a Chinee, and with that there man, what, when all's said and done, I'm certain was and is Netherfield Baxter," reiterated Fish. "But mind you, and here's the queer part of it, he wasn't no common Chinaman. Not the sort that you'll see by the score down in Limehouse way, or in Liverpool, or in Cardiff—not at all. Lord bless you, this here chap was smarter dressed than t'other two! Swell-made dark clothes, gold-handled umbrella, kid gloves on his blooming hands, and a silk top-hat—a reg'lar dude! But—a chink!"
"Well?" said Scarterfield, after a pause, during which he seemed to be thinking a good deal. "Anything happen?"
"Nothing happened, master—what should happen?" replied Fish. "Them here were in their corner, and Jim Shanks and me, we was in ours. They were busied talking amongst themselves—of course, we heard nothing. And at last all three went out."
"Did the man you take to be Baxter look at you?" asked Scarterfield.
"Never showed a sign of it!" declared Fish. "Him and t'other passed us on their way to the door, but he took no notice."
"See him again anywhere?" inquired Scarterfield.
"No, I didn't" replied Fish. "I left Hull early next morning, and went to see relatives o' mine at South Shields. Only came home a day or two since, and happening to pass the time o' day with widow Ormthwaite this morning, I told her what I've told you. Then she told me that you was inquiring about Baxter, guv'nor—so I comes along here to see you. What might you be wanting with my gentleman, now?"
Scarterfield told Fish enough to satisfy and quieten him; and presently the man went away, having first told us that he would be at home for another month. When he had gone Scarterfield turned to me.
"There!" he said. "What d'you think of that, Mr. Middlebrook?"
"What do you think of it?" I suggested.