"Did you happen to see that car waiting near the house I came from?" he said to the taxi man, who, of course, provided an interested audience of one.
"Yes, sir," was the ready answer. "It's not a London car. I've never seen them letters afore."
"In other words, it may be a faked number."
"Likely enough, sir, but rather risky. The police are quick at spotting that sort of thing."
"Can you take a hand in the game? I want to know where that car goes to."
The man grinned.
"I wouldn't like to humbug you, sir. That there machine can lose me quicker'n a Derby winner could pass a keb horse. Didn't you hear the hum of the engine as it went by?"
"Thanks. Now go ahead to Innesmore Mansions."
He was paying the driver when the gray car stole quietly past the end of the street, and that was the last he saw of it.
"There it goes again, sir," said the man. "Tell you wot, gimme your name an' address. I'll make a few inquiries, an' keep me eyes open as well. Then, if I hear anythink, I'll let you know."