The first official whom Theodore interrogated had never heard of the name of Strangway in the island; but an elderly inspector appearing presently upon the scene, and listening attentively to the conversation, made a suggestion.
“You say the gentleman was fond of drink, sir, and in that case he’d be likely to have his favourite public, where they’d know all about him. Now, there are not so many taverns in St. Heliers where a sea-captain, and a broken-down gentleman, would care to enjoy himself. He wouldn’t go to a low place, you see; and he wouldn’t fancy a swell place. It would be some house betwixt and between, where he’d be looked up to a bit—and it would be something of a seafaring place, you may be sure. There ain’t so many but what you could look in at ’em all, and ask a few questions, and get on the right track. I can give you the names of two or three of the likeliest.”
“I shall be much obliged,” said Theodore. “I think it’s a capital idea.”
The inspector wrote down the names of three taverns, tore the leaf out of his pocket-book, and handed it to Mr. Dalbrook.
“If you don’t hear of him at one of those, I doubt if you’ll hear of him anywhere on the island,” he said. “Those houses are all near the pier and the quays. It won’t take you long to go from one to the other. ‘The Rose and Crown,’ that’s where the English pilots go; ‘La Belle Alliance,’ that’s a French house with a table d’hôte. They’ve got a very good name for their brandy, and it’s a great place for broken-down gentlemen. You can get a good dinner for half-a-crown with vin ordinaire included.”
“I’ll try the ‘Belle Alliance’ first,” said Theodore. “It sounds likely.”
“Yes, I believe it’s about the likeliest,” replied the inspector.
The “Belle Alliance” fronted the quay, and stood at the corner of a shabby old street. There was a church close by, and a dingy old churchyard. Everything surrounding the “Belle Alliance” was shabby and faded, and its outlook on the dirty quay and the traffic of ugly waggons and uglier tracks, hogsheads and lumber of all kinds, was depressing in the extreme.
But the tavern itself had an air of smartness which an English tavern would hardly have had in the same circumstances. The interior was gay with much looking-glass, and a good deal of tarnished gilding. There were artificial flowers in sham silver vases on the tables, and there was a semi-circular counter at one end of the restaurant, behind which a ponderous divinity, still youthful, but expansive, sat enthroned, her sleek, black hair elaborately dressed, her forehead ornamented with accroche-cœurs, and a cross of Jersey diamonds sparkling upon her swan-like throat, which was revealed by one of those open collars which are dear to the lower order of French women. There was a row of tables in front of the windows which looked towards the quay, and there was a long, narrow table in the middle of the room, laid for the table d’hôte dejeuner; but as yet the room was empty, save for one young man and woman, of the tourist order, who were whispering and tittering over a café complet at one of the small tables furthest from the buffet.
Theodore went straight to the front of the buffet, and saluted the lady enthroned there.