Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A MysteryFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction
And she, also, strolled out of Draper's Mews, and followed Dr. Vinsen
at a distance so carefully and warily, and apparently with so much
unconcern, that no one would have suspected that she was engaged upon
the most important task she had ever undertaken. "Now I've got you,"
was her thought, "and I don't let you go." She kept her sharp eyes
fixed upon him. When he stopped she stopped, when he lingered she
lingered, when he walked slowly she walked slowly, when he quickened
his steps she quickened hers. It appeared as if he were undecided as
to the course he should pursue, for now and then he looked about him,
and seemed to debate which way to turn. It was evident that he had no
definite business to attend to, and no definite goal to reach. Passing
a public house of a superior kind, he had gone a dozen yards beyond it
when he turned back and entered the private bar. Grace made a rapid
survey, to see how many doors there were by which he could leave. In
point of fact, although of course it was a corner house, there was
only one, but of this she was not aware, so she posted herself on the
opposite corner and watched all the doors, and if there had been twice
as many she would have had eyes for them all. He remained a long time
in the private bar, and when he made his reappearance he was still as
undecided as to his course. It may have been out of mere idleness that
he entered a chemist's shop and purchased something, which he put into
his pocket as he came out. In this aimless way he and Gracie strolled
on through Park Street, Islington, at one part of which he crossed the
road and looked up at the windows of a house. It was the house in
which Reginald had lodged. Gracie noted the number, and would not
forget it. So they strolled on, past the Grand Theatre, past Sadler's
Wells, through Clerkenwell into Holborn, where he hailed a bus for
Charing Cross, and got inside. "It's a good job Dick gave me some
money," thought Gracie, as she scrambled to the top without being
observed by the gentleman she had been following.
CHAPTER L.
EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.
At Charing Cross Dr. Vinsen alighted, and Gracie descended from the
roof in the manner generally adopted by females, with her back instead
of her face to the horses, which is by far the more dangerous way of
the two to climb down from an omnibus. But, Gracie being a girl of
unusual sharpness and penetration, it may be that she got down that
way for the purpose of keeping her eye upon Dr. Vinsen, and if this
were so she was quite successful, for she did not lose sight of him
for a single moment, despite the busy throng of people hurrying in all
directions, and the bewildering entanglement of vehicles of every
description, which render this part of London at mid-day one of the
most marvellous demonstrations of the civilised life of a great city
that can be met with all the world over.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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