crossed the narrow roadway and turned into an office, over the window of which was a sign—"Jallanby, Ship Broker." He had only got a foot across his threshold, however, when Scarterfield was at his elbow.
"Excuse me, sir," he said politely. "May I have a word with you?"
The man turned, stared, evidently recognized Scarterfield as a stranger he had just seen in the Goose and Crane, and turned from him to me.
"Yes?" he answered questionably. "What is it?"
Scarterfield pulled out his pocket-book and produced his official card.
"You'll see who I am from that," he remarked. "This gentleman's a friend of mine—just now giving me some professional help. I take it you're Mr. Jallanby?"
The ship-broker started a little as he glanced at the card and realized Scarterfield's calling.
"Yes, I'm Mr. Jallanby," he answered. "Come inside, gentlemen." He led the way into a dark, rather dismal and dusty little office, and signed to a clerk who was writing there to go out. "What is it, Mr. Scarterfield?" he asked. "Some information?"
"You've hit it sir," replied Scarterfield. "That's just what we do want; we came here to Hull on purpose to find you, believing you can give it. From something we heard only yesterday afternoon, Mr. Jallanby, a long way from here, we believe that one morning about three weeks ago, you were in the Goose and Crane in that very room where we saw you just now, in company with two men—smartly dressed
