The subordinate beckoned Rixton to a quiet corner, and in a low tone said one word, which made him dismiss from his mind the idea of attending the theatre on that evening. The whispered word was "murder." "Where?" asked Fanks, assuming the detective on the instant. "Down Tooley's Alley." "Man or woman or child?" "Man! I think a gentleman." "When was the crime committed?" "Between six and seven this evening." "In a house or on the street?" "In a house. The Red Star public-house." "I know it," said Fanks, with a sharp nod, "a cut-throat place at the bottom of Tooley's Alley. The assassin chose an excellent locality. Poison, steel, or bludgeon?" "The first I fancy; there are no marks of violence on the body. But you had better come and see for yourself." "I agree with you. Return to the Red Star, Crate, while I go to my rooms to change my clothes. I am Rixton at present, and I don't want to mix up my two personalities. Expect me in half an hour." Crate departed with prompt obedience, and Rixton drove off in a swift hansom to his chambers in Duke Street, St. James. In ten minutes he had assumed his detective clothes and Fanks personality; in twenty he was returning eastward; and at the expiration of half an hour he was standing at the door of the house wherein the crime had been committed. Such promptitude was characteristic of the man. Tooley's Alley is a narrow zig-zag street, which, beginning at a point in Drury Lane, twists its way through a mass of malodorous houses until blocked finally by the Red Star Hotel. It is a famous Rialto of rogues and vagabonds, for here "they most do congregate;" and here come the police, when any especial criminal is wanted by the law. An evil district with an evil name; a plague spot, which cannot be eradicated either by law or by religion. There are many such in London, and of all Tooley's Alley is the worst. It was plausible enough that a gentleman should be trapped, robbed, and murdered in this quarter; but it was more difficult to surmise what errand had brought a gentleman into so dangerous a neighbourhood. A gentleman done to death in Tooley's Alley! Fanks scented a mystery. The Red Star was a gorgeous gin-palace, all gas, and glare, and glitter. It was licensed to Mrs. Boazoph, a widow, whose character was more than suspected by the police; but who contrived by a circumspect demeanour to keep on the right side of the law. By virtue of her position, her supposed wealth, and above all by reason of her talents, she was quite the queen of Tooley's Alley. Why she should have been permitted to hold her disreputable court in this hotbed of crime was best known to the authorities; but hold it she did, and made money out of her ragged subjects. In the neighbourhood she was popularly known as Queen Beelzeebub.