On recognizing the visitor, it disappeared again at once, and the next moment a burly figure in trousers and shirt sleeves swung open the front door.
"Couldn't believe me own eyes, doctor," announced the prize-fighter with a grin of welcome. "'Ow the blazes did you manage to find your way 'ere?"
"I got your address from an elderly gentleman who was shoving up bills outside the Palace," said Colin. "He wouldn't part with it until I told him who I was."
"Ah, that'd be old Tom," returned Joe, nodding his head. "'E ain't the sort to let 'is mouth flap, not unless 'e's sure of 'is comp'ny." He stepped back into the passage, holding open the door. "Come along in, doctor. I ain't got much of a place, but, such as it is, you're more than welcome."
Colin followed his host into a tiny apartment on the left, on the walls of which were nailed up a number of coloured prints, representing various well-known boxers in highly aggressive attitudes. In the centre of the room stood a deal table, containing a couple of bottles of Bass and the smaller half of a brown loaf. A bed, a dilapidated chair, and an old packing-case, full of odds and ends, completed the remainder of the furniture.
"I was jest goin' to 'ave me breakfast," explained Joe, indicating the refreshments. "If you'd fancy a drop, guv'nor, I can borrow a glass from the bloke upstairs."
"Not for me, thanks," said Colin. "I always go to sleep if I drink beer in the morning, and besides, I have only looked in to tell you that you'll be wanted this afternoon."
Joe's eyes glistened. "Goin' to shove it across 'em?" he inquired eagerly.
"I wish we were," was Colin's reply, "but I'm afraid it's nothing as exciting as that. The fact is, I had a talk with Inspector Marsden yesterday, and he wants you and me and Miss Seymour to meet him at Scotland Yard at two o'clock."
For a moment Joe seemed somewhat taken aback.