Colin thanked him, and, crossing the street, made his way down the alley in question, until he arrived at the farther end. Joe's residence proved to be a single-fronted dwelling of grimy brick, the ground floor window of which opened on to the street. A square of not over-clean muslin had been nailed up inside, in order to secure the owner's privacy, but at Colin's second knock this obstruction was cautiously lifted, and Joe's face peered out inquiringly through the dirty glass. On recognizing the visitor, it disappeared again at once, and the next moment a burly figure in trousers and shirt sleeves swung open the front door. "Couldn't believe me own eyes, doctor," announced the prize-fighter with a grin of welcome. "'Ow the blazes did you manage to find your way 'ere?" "I got your address from an elderly gentleman who was shoving up bills outside the Palace," said Colin. "He wouldn't part with it until I told him who I was." "Ah, that'd be old Tom," returned Joe, nodding his head. "'E ain't the sort to let 'is mouth flap, not unless 'e's sure of 'is comp'ny." He stepped back into the passage, holding open the door. "Come along in, doctor. I ain't got much of a place, but, such as it is, you're more than welcome." Colin followed his host into a tiny apartment on the left, on the walls of which were nailed up a number of coloured prints, representing various well-known boxers in highly aggressive attitudes. In the centre of the room stood a deal table, containing a couple of bottles of Bass and the smaller half of a brown loaf. A bed, a dilapidated chair, and an old packing-case, full of odds and ends, completed the remainder of the furniture. "I was jest goin' to 'ave me breakfast," explained Joe, indicating the refreshments. "If you'd fancy a drop, guv'nor, I can borrow a glass from the bloke upstairs." "Not for me, thanks," said Colin. "I always go to sleep if I drink beer in the morning, and besides, I have only looked in to tell you that you'll be wanted this afternoon." Joe's eyes glistened. "Goin' to shove it across 'em?" he inquired eagerly. "I wish we were," was Colin's reply, "but I'm afraid it's nothing as exciting as that. The fact is, I had a talk with Inspector Marsden yesterday, and he wants you and me and Miss Seymour to meet him at Scotland Yard at two o'clock." For a moment Joe seemed somewhat taken aback. "If them's the orders," he said at last, "there ain't no more to be said abaht it. I never thought to see meself walkin' in there, though, not of me own accord." "They'll be civil enough," said Colin. "They only want to hear your story about getting me out of the cellar." "I daresay you're right," admitted Joe doubtfully. "I ain't got nothin' special against the perlice; all I says is that the less you 'as to do with 'em the better." He paused. "Wot's the programme, guv'nor? Do I jest step up to the front door an' 'and in me card?"