"He didn't leave any family, did he?" he inquired, as he passed it over.
"Only a wife," said Mr. Kidd; "and who's to tell that pore soul I don't know. She fair doated on 'im. 'Ow she's to live I don't know. I shall do what I can for 'er."
"Same 'ere," said Mr. Brown, in a deep voice.
"Something ought to be done for 'er," said the carman, as he went out.
"First thing is to tell the police," said the landlord. "They ought to know; then p'r'aps one of them'll tell her. It's what they're paid for."
"It's so awfully sudden. I don't know where I am 'ardly," said Mr. Kidd. "I don't believe she's got a penny-piece in the 'ouse. Pore Joe 'ad a lot o' pals. I wonder whether we could'nt get up something for her."
"Go round and tell the police first," said the landlord, pursing up his lips thoughtfully. "We can talk about that later on."
Mr. Kidd thanked him warmly and withdrew, accompanied by Mr. Brown. Twenty minutes later they left the station, considerably relieved at the matter-of-fact way in which the police had received the tidings, and, hurrying across London Bridge, made their way towards a small figure supporting its back against a post in the Borough market.
"Well?" said Mr. Gibbs, snappishly, as he turned at the sound of their footsteps.
"It'll be all right, Joe," said Mr. Kidd. "We've sowed the seed."