Old Broadbrim did not let the woman's warning deprive him of the society of his friend, and some hours later he emerged from the house with the thousand-and-one lights of London before him.
Drawing his collar up, for the night was cool and a brisk wind was coming in over the waters of the Thames, he started back, intending to walk to a cab station in the immediate neighborhood and from there take a cab.
London was well filled, from what the detective could see, and some of its inhabitants were in the same condition.
Every now and then he was jostled by a drunken man or woman, and in some instances almost crowded off the narrow sidewalk.
Presently he was clutched by a hand and forced into the mouth of an alley.
"Don't talk, for it's all right," said a voice which he thought he recognized. "I followed you and I hope I've done no wrong, sir. The man is still watching you, sir. I hung onto the back of the cab, sir, and got a good jolting over the stones. But I'm here, sir, to tell you that you're still in peril."
It was the same warning woman, and her face was the very picture of starvation.
"Where is he?" asked Old Broadbrim.
"You can't see him from here, sir; but he's across the way near the Star and Garter over there. If you look very sharp you may see a man in the shadow of the place. That's him."
"What is he like?"