“At this time, then,” pursued Dunbar, “you had actually passed the other cab, and the gentleman on the pavement had not come up with it?” “'E couldn't see it, guv'nor! I'm tellin' you 'e 'adn't got to the Johnny 'Orner!” “I see,” muttered Sowerby. “It's possible that Mr. Exel took no notice of the first cab--especially as it did not come out of the Square.” “Wotcher say, guv'nor?” queried the cabman again, turning his bleared eyes upon Sergeant Sowerby. “He said,” interrupted Dunbar, “was Brian's cab empty?” “'Course it was,” rapped Mr. Hamper, “'e 'd just dropped 'is fare at Palace Mansions.”... “How do you know?” snapped Dunbar, suddenly, fixing his fierce eyes upon the face of the speaker. The cabman glared in beery truculence. “I got me blarsted senses, ain't I?” he inquired. “There's only two lots o' flats on that side o' the Square--Palace Mansions, an' St. Andrew's Mansions.” “Well?” “St. Andrew's Mansions,” continued Hamper, “is all away!” “All away?” “All away! I know, 'cause I used to have a reg'lar fare there. 'E's in Egyp'; flat shut up. Top floor's to let. Bottom floor's two old unmarried maiden ladies what always travels by 'bus. So does all their blarsted friends an' relations. Where can old Tom Brian 'ave been comin' from, if it wasn't Palace Mansions?” “H'm!” said Dunbar, “you are a loss to the detective service, my lad! And how do you account for the fact that Brian has not got to hear of the inquiry?” Hamper bent to Dunbar and whispered, beerily, in his ear: “P'r'aps 'e don't want to 'ear, guv'nor!” “Oh! Why not?” “Well, 'e knows there's something up there!” “Therefore it's his plain duty to assist the police.” “Same as what I does?” cried Hamper, raising his eyebrows. “Course it is! but 'ow d'you know 'e ain't been got at?” “Our friend, here, evidently has one up against Mr. Tom Brian!” muttered Dunbar aside to Sowerby. “Wotcher say, guv'nor?” inquired the cabman, looking from one to the other. “I say, no doubt you can save us the trouble of looking out Brian's license, and give us his private address?” replied Dunbar. “Course I can. 'E lives hat num'er 36 Forth Street, Brixton, and 'e's out o' the big Brixton depot.” “Oh!” said Dunbar, dryly. “Does he owe you anything?” “Wotcher say, guv'nor?” “I say, it's very good of you to take all this trouble and whatever it has cost you in time, we shall be pleased to put right.” Mr. Hamper spat in his right palm, and rubbed his hands together, appreciatively. “Make it five bob!” he said. “Wait downstairs,” directed Dunbar, pressing a bell-push beside the door. “I'll get it put through for you.” “Right 'o!” rumbled the cabman, and went lurching from the room as a constable in uniform appeared at the door. “Good mornin', guv'nor. Good mornin'!” The cabman having departed, leaving in his wake a fragrant odor of fourpenny ale:--