"Yer see, it's this ere wy wiv us--if yer can let us have that there stuff reasonable, d'yer see--" He drew Perkwite over to the window and began to whisper, "That'll satisfy him," he said with a sharp glance at the little room behind the hatch where the landlord was drawing corks. "He'll think we're doing a bit of trade, so we've nothing to do but stand in this window and keep an eye on the street. Out of this I'm not going till I see whether that fellow comes out or stops in!" Some time had passed, and Millwaters had been obliged to repeat his order for bottled Bass before anything took place in the street outside. Suddenly he touched his companion's elbow. "Here's a taxicab coming along and slowing up for somewhere about here," he whispered. "And--Lord, if there aren't two ladies in it--in a spot like this! And--whew!" he went on excitedly. "Do you see 'em, Mr. Perkwite? The young un's Miss Wickham, who came to our office about this Ashton affair. I don't know who the old un is--but she evidently knows her way." The berry-faced landlord had now shut down the hatch, and his two bar-parlour customers were alone and unobserved. Perkwite drew away from the window, pulling Millwaters by the sleeve. "Careful!" he said. "There's something seriously wrong here, Millwaters! What's Miss Wickham being brought down here for? See, they've gone into that surgery, and the car's going off. Look here--we've got to do something, and at once!" But Millwaters shook his head. "Not my job, Mr. Perkwite!" he answered. "My business is with the man--Cave! I've nothing to do with Miss Wickham, sir, nor with the old lady that's taken her in there. Cave's my mark! Queer that the young lady's gone there, no doubt, but--no affair of mine." "It's going to be an affair of mine, then," said Perkwite. "I'm going off to the police!" Millwaters put out a detaining hand. "Don't, Mr. Perkwite!" he said. "To get police into a quarter like this is as bad as putting a light to dry straw. I'll tell you a better plan than that, sir--find the nearest telephone-box and call up our people--call Mr. Carless, tell him what you've seen and get him to come down and bring somebody with him. That'll be far better than calling the police in." "Give me your telephone-number, then," said Perkwite, "and keep a strict watch while I'm away." Millwaters repeated some figures and a letter, and Perkwite ran off up the street and toward the Whitechapel Road, anxiously seeking for a telephone booth. It was not until he had got into the main thoroughfare that he found one; he then had some slight delay in getting in communication with Carless and Driver's office; twenty minutes had elapsed by the time he got back to the dismal street. At its corner he encountered Millwaters, lounging about hands in pockets. Millwaters wagged his head. "Here's another queer go!" he said. "There's been another arrival at Number 23--not five minutes since. Another of our little lot!" "Who?" demanded Perkwite.