“A kind of midnight wanderer, eh?”
“Yes, ’e’s always a-pryin’ about at night. Not long ago ’e found burglars in a ’ouse in Gloucester Terrace, and gave us the alarm. We copped four of ’em. The magistrate gave ’im a guinea out o’ the poor-box.”
“Ah! so he’s of use to you?”
“Yes, sir, ’e’s most intelligent where there’s any suspicious characters about. I’ve often put ’im on the watch myself.”
“Then he’s not quite insane?”
“Not on that point, at any rate,” laughed the officer.
“Where does he live?”
“’Is father’s a hackney-carriage driver, and ’e lives with ’im up in Gloucester Mews, just at the back of Porchester Mews—I don’t know if you know it?”
I was compelled to confess ignorance of the locality, but he directed me.
“Are you on night-duty in Porchester Terrace, constable?” I asked a few moments later.