Next morning, while at breakfast, he expected his
friend, but still there was no appearance of the visitor. A
ring came to the door and Jennings thought that this was
Cuthbert at last. He was distinctly disappointed when Drudge
made his appearance.
"Well," said Jennings sharply, "what is it?"
"I followed the lady you saw, sir."
"Mrs. Herne? Yes."
"She left her house in Hampstead and walked down the hill.
There she took a cab. I followed in another. Her cab stopped
at the house of Maraquito in Soho. Since then I have been
watching the house, but I have not seen Mrs. Herne again."
"She is Senora Gredos' aunt," explained Jennings, "so I expect
she is stopping with her."
"No, sir, she isn't. I made friends with a boy called Gibber--"
"Yes. He is a page in the house. Well?"
"I gave him a drink or two," said Drudge, "and a few stamps,
as he is a collector. He become friendly with me, and I asked
him about the house. He was very frank, but he said nothing
about the gambling."
"Humph! I expect he has been told to hold his tongue. Well,
did you hear anything at all?"
"I heard that Gibber had never seen Mrs. Herne. He did not
even know her name. Now, sir," went on Drudge, laying a
finger in the palm of his hand, "if Mrs. Herne was stopping at
the Soho house, Gibber would have seen her."
A flash of joy passed across the countenance of Jennings, but
he turned away from his underling so that he might not betray
the satisfaction he felt.
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