But he scanned the faces of the hurrying foot-passengers, and he could discern no hostile countenance. Well-dressed loungers, women intent on shopping and bargains, a man dressed in working costume, walking with a slouching gait. These were all he saw.
He hailed a taxi, and shouted in a loud voice: “Broad Street Station.” He had to shout loudly, for the roar of the traffic was deafening.
The working-man with the slouching gait caught the words. A second taxi was just behind. He opened the door and jumped in, after having whispered in the ear of the driver, “Follow that fellow.”
At Broad Street Station Farloe alighted, needless to say the man who had pursued him close on his heels. Two tickets were taken for Hackney Station, one first-class, the other third-class.
The disguised working-man, otherwise Varney, had been considerably chagrined at the disappearance of the Forest View household, and had sworn to be even with them. He had watched Farloe ever since, knowing that through him he would get at the whereabouts of Stent and Bolinski.
Farloe alighted at Hackney Station, and after walking for about a quarter of a mile, turned up one of the many mean streets that abound in that neighbourhood. The secretary knocked at the door of one of the dingiest houses in the row, and disappeared inside.
Varney kept his watch. At the end of an hour or so three men emerged from the shabby dwelling. As he expected, the two others were Stent and Bolinski.
The three men made their way into Mare Street, and turned into the saloon bar of a big public-house. Something of importance was evidently in progress.
Varney reflected. They would be some minutes before they had finished their drinks and their conversation. In the meantime, he had taken the name of the street and the number of the house. He could allow himself five minutes to ring up Scotland Yard.
Smeaton was fortunately in. In a few brief words he told the detective of his discovery. Smeaton’s reply come back.