Two men hastening in the night to the Hendon railway station paused at that turn of the road which leads to the police offices and jail.
"You go on and take care of yourself—I'll follow in five minutes," said one.
"You ain't going to give a man away?" said the other.
There was only a contemptuous snort for answer. The first speaker had turned on his heel. When he reached the police offices, he rang the bell. The door was answered by a sergeant in plain clothes. "I've found your man for you," said Hugh Ritson.
"Where, sir?"
"At the Hawk and Heron."
"Who is he?"
"Paul Drayton. You'll find him lying in the garret at the west end of the gable—drunk. Lose not an hour. Go at once."
"Is the gentleman who struggled with him still staying there—Mr. Paul Ritson?"
"No; he goes back home to-night."