Theodore left Waterloo the following evening, and landed at St. Heliers on the following morning an hour or so before noon. He landed on the island as an absolute stranger, and with the vaguest idea of the work that lay before him, but with the determination to lose no time in beginning that work. He sent his valise to Brett’s Hotel, and he walked along the pier to the town, and inquired his way to the Police Office. He was not going in quest of information about a member of the criminal classes; but the man he was hunting had been a notorious drunkard, and it seemed to him that in a small settlement like St. Heliers such a man would have been likely to attract the attention of the police at some stage of his downward career. The first official whom Theodore interrogated had never heard of the name of Strangway in the island; but an elderly inspector appearing presently upon the scene, and listening attentively to the conversation, made a suggestion. “You say the gentleman was fond of drink, sir, and in that case he’d be likely to have his favourite public, where they’d know all about him. Now, there are not so many taverns in St. Heliers where a sea-captain, and a broken-down gentleman, would care to enjoy himself. He wouldn’t go to a low place, you see; and he wouldn’t fancy a swell place. It would be some house betwixt and between, where he’d be looked up to a bit—and it would be something of a seafaring place, you may be sure. There ain’t so many but what you could look in at ’em all, and ask a few questions, and get on the right track. I can give you the names of two or three of the likeliest.” “I shall be much obliged,” said Theodore. “I think it’s a capital idea.” The inspector wrote down the names of three taverns, tore the leaf out of his pocket-book, and handed it to Mr. Dalbrook. “If you don’t hear of him at one of those, I doubt if you’ll hear of him anywhere on the island,” he said. “Those houses are all near the pier and the quays. It won’t take you long to go from one to the other. ‘The Rose and Crown,’ that’s where the English pilots go; ‘La Belle Alliance,’ that’s a French house with a _table d’hôte_. They’ve got a very good name for their brandy, and it’s a great place for broken-down gentlemen. You can get a good dinner for half-a-crown with _vin ordinaire_ included.” “I’ll try the ‘Belle Alliance’ first,” said Theodore. “It sounds likely.” “Yes, I believe it’s about the likeliest,” replied the inspector. The “Belle Alliance” fronted the quay, and stood at the corner of a shabby old street. There was a church close by, and a dingy old churchyard. Everything surrounding the “Belle Alliance” was shabby and faded, and its outlook on the dirty quay and the traffic of ugly waggons and uglier tracks, hogsheads and lumber of all kinds, was depressing in the extreme.