"Peculiar knowledge of solicitors and their clerks in this part o' London," replied Quigman. "My line. Matherfield, he's an idea that the order to open this safe'll be presented by a solicitor."
"Good Lord!—has he?" exclaimed Hetherwick. "I wonder! But—"
"Big help to these chaps, don't you see, if they can make a solicitor do the cat's-paw work," suggested Quigman. "Who'd suspect a solicitor of the High Court? And as I know pretty nearly all of 'em—there's one I know now coming up t'other side of the street," he continued suddenly. "That tallish, thin, pale-faced chap—see him? Look at him without seeming to look. Now I wonder if he's the party we want?"
Hetherwick looked in the direction indicated. He saw a youngish, spectacled man in a silk hat, morning coat, and the corresponding additions of professional attire, who was walking rapidly along from South to north. He was a very mild, gentle-looking person, not at all the sort to be concerned in dark plots and mysterious aims, and Hetherwick said so.
"Aye, well, you never know!" remarked Quigman lugubriously. "But, as I say, I know him. Mr. Garrowell—Mr. Octavius Garrowell—solicitor, of St. Martin's Lane, that is. Been in practice for himself about four years or so. Nice young feller!—quiet. And he is going in there—see?"
Hetherwick saw. There were several people, men and women, entering the Safe Deposit just then, but Mr. Garrowell's silk hat and sloping shoulders made him easily identifiable.
"I dessay it's him!" observed Quigman, with a sigh. "Just the sort to be took in, he is! Innocent, unsuspecting sort o' gentleman. However—it mayn't be. Deal o' people use these Safe Deposits nowadays."
Mr. Garrowell disappeared. The two watchers waited. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes went by; then Mr. Garrowell came out. He came out just as any man would come out after transacting his business, quietly. Nobody followed him: nobody seemed to be watching him—from the Safe Deposit. But Hetherwick noticed at once that whereas he had entered carrying nothing but an umbrella, he now carried a small, square, leather-covered box. With this in his left hand he crossed the roadway, and advanced straight towards Hetherwick and Quigman.
"No need to move, sir," whispered the detective. "Take no notice—spot him, though."
Mr. Garrowell, seen at close quarters, looked to be a somewhat absent-minded gentleman. But, chancing to look up as he stepped on the pavement, his eyes encountered Quigman, who touched his hat.