“Indeed?” Hewitt answered. “Deafness _is_ convenient sometimes, I know. Now I want you to stay here while I make some inquiries. Perhaps you’d better keep Mrs. Rudd’s servant with you if you want company. I don’t expect to be very long gone, and in any case it wouldn’t do for her to go to her mistress and say that Mrs. Mallett is missing, or it might upset her seriously.” Hewitt left the house and walked till he found a public-house where a post-office directory was kept. He took a glass of whisky and water, most of which he left on the counter, and borrowed the directory. He found “Greengrocers” in the “Trade” section and ran his finger down the column till he came on this address:-- “Penner, Reuben, 8, Little Marsh Row, Hammersmith, W.” Then he returned the directory and found the best cab he could to take him to Hammersmith. Little Marsh Row was not a vastly prosperous sort of place, and the only shops were three--all small. Two were chandlers’, and the third was a sort of semi-shed of the greengrocery and coal persuasion, with the name “Penner” on a board over the door. The shutters were all up, though the door was open, and the only person visible was a very smudgy boy, who was in the act of wheeling out a sack of coals. To the smudgy boy Hewitt applied himself. “I don’t see Mr. Penner about,” he said; “will he be back soon?” The boy stared hard at Hewitt. “No,” he said, “he won’t. ’E’s guv’ up the shop. ’E paid ’is next week’s rent this mornin’ and retired.” [Illustration: “THE BOY STARED HARD AT HEWITT.”] “Oh!” Hewitt answered sharply. “Retired, has he? And what’s become of the stock, eh! Where are the cabbages and potatoes?” “’E told me to give ’em to the pore, an’ I did. There’s lots o’ pore lives round ’ere. My mother’s one; an’ these ’ere coals is for ’er, an’ I’m goin’ to ’ave the trolley for myself.” “Dear me!” Hewitt answered, regarding the boy with amused interest. “You’re a very business-like almoner. And what will the Tabernacle do without Mr. Penner?” “I dunno,” the boy answered, closing the door behind him. “I dunno nothin’ about the Tabernacle--only where it is.” “Ah, and where is it? I might find him there, perhaps.” “Ward Lane--fust on left, second on right. It’s a shop wot’s bin shut up; next door to a stableyard.” And the smudgy boy started off with his trolley. The Tabernacle was soon found. At some very remote period it had been an unlucky small shop, but now it was permanently shuttered, and the interior was lighted by holes cut in the upper panels of the shutters. Hewitt took a good look at the shuttered window and the door beside it, and then entered the stable-yard at the side. To the left of the passage giving entrance to the yard there was a door, which plainly was another entrance to the house, and a still damp mud-mark on the step proved it to have been lately used. Hewitt rapped sharply at the door with his knuckles.