I had taken shorthand notes of all the details Mr Lanimore was able to give me. Not that I needed them. But it looks well to be as business-like as possible.
A few minutes later I was explaining the whole affair to my uncle, and we soon had our plans for future action completed. We generally keep an eye, through our subordinates, on such likely people for business as Angelina Dyer, and knew that she was lodging in a street off Commercial-road at this moment.
We also felt sure that for this day, at least, she would suspend further active operations in the city. At present she would be displaying her prizes to the admiring gaze of her associates. Pawnshops are a worked-out field for our regular watch-lifters. They have a safer means of disposing their gains. Not far from Houndsditch there lives a man under whose clever manipulative fingers stolen watches and jewellery lose their identity. If ordinary “faking” won’t work the oracle, then the melting-pot is resorted to.
In all probability Alderman Lanimore’s repeater would be in the hands of the watch-faker within twenty-four hours. We must, therefore, secure it to-night – if not by strategy, then by force.
Four subordinates were instantly instructed to keep a careful watch upon Angelina Dyer’s abode, and to set about the business without delay. Half-an-hour later I started on the track, accompanied by Adam Henniker. We had both undergone a considerable transformation, and would not have been recognised by our best friends. We looked like very well-to-do country simpletons who had never been in London before, and who were agog with amazement at all we saw. We noticed many a smile of covert meaning on the faces of passers-by, whose knowledge of the neighbourhood we were in made them question the wisdom of our gorgeously liberal display of jewellery.
But we did not anticipate trouble, as our colleagues were mostly near enough to assist us at a moment’s notice, although until they received that notice, we were as utter strangers to each other in our occasional encounters.
I had had no time to snatch a meal before setting out to watch for Angelina again, and was feeling very hungry, but dared not relax my attention. I knew, however, that people of the class we had chosen to represent saw no breach of manners in eating in the street, and we decided that our assumption of the roles of country Johnnies would look much more natural if we comported ourselves with true country unconsciousness.
When, therefore, Angelina realised our expectations by emerging from her habitation, and walking towards Aldgate, Adam was cutting a big sandwich with a huge clasp-knife, and I was making futile efforts to dispose of a cake that had proved much less tempting than when it was displayed in the vendor’s window.
In an instant Angelina spotted prey, and Adam, with his mouth half-full of sandwich, contrived to give her an excuse for speaking to us, if she had needed one, remarking loudly, “Aw doant care, Jane, aw’m not gooin’ whoam withawt seein’ th’ place wheer th’ Whitechapel murders were done. Aw say, missis, con yo tell us which is th’ street as th’ fust murder were done in?”
“Why, yes,” was the smiling reply. “It’s just over here. I’m going that way, and I’ll show you the street.”