He secured a hansom and drove to the lodgings of Tom Owens and sprang up the steps.
Everything seemed to depend on what the suspected man had done.
Was Rufus Redmond still in London, or had he eluded Tom?
A few moments would tell.
Old Broadbrim rapped at the detective's door and heard his well-known step as he sprang across the floor.
In another second he stood face to face with his friend.
"Just in time," said Tom, pointing to a bottle of porter on the table. "I was about to indulge in a little happiness and you can take part."
But Old Broadbrim had other things on his mind, and as he took the proffered seat he looked anxiously at the Scotland Yard ferret.
"Oh, I've got him located," smiled Tom. "It's all right. I guess he's good for some days in London; you can take your time to him. He's a slick fellow, by the way, and gave me a little chase from Liverpool, but I've landed my fish."
"I'm glad to hear it!" cried Old Broadbrim. "That will keep me from beating the Australian bush for him, as he seemed to be heading for that part of the world."