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houth!ā€ he said. ā€œThee! theā ā€”thee ith! Lockinā€™ the door behind her, too! Goinā€™ up the thtreet!ā€

Hetherwick looked and saw, and pushed Goldmark out of the doorway.

ā€œFollow!ā€ he said. ā€œAnd for Godā€™s sake, donā€™t miss her!ā€

XXIV The House in the Yard

The Jew silently and promptly set out in the wake of the hurrying woman; presently she and her pursuer disappeared round a corner.

ā€œThatā€™s the result of our call, Mapperley!ā€ said Hetherwick. ā€œSheā€™s gone somewhereā ā€”to tell somebody!ā€

ā€œLikely!ā€ assented Mapperley. ā€œBut wherever sheā€™s gone, Issy Goldmarkā€™ll spot her. Heā€™s the eyes of a lynx.ā€

ā€œHe let Baseverie slip him, the other night, though,ā€ remarked Hetherwick.

ā€œWell, there was some excuse for that,ā€ said Mapperley, ā€œto begin with, he was only instructed to find out where Baseverie went, and to end with he had found out! Heā€™ll not let this woman slip him. Sheā€™s good to followā ā€”plenty of her.ā€

ā€œI wish we knew what sheā€™d left in that house,ā€ said Hetherwick. ā€œWeā€™ll have to find out, somehow!ā€

ā€œThatā€™s a police job,ā€ replied Mapperley. ā€œCanā€™t walk into peopleā€™s houses without a warrant. And you say Matherfieldā€™s on the other track? However, I should say that this womanā€™s gone off now to find somebody whoā€™s principally concernedā ā€”she looked afraid, in my opinion, when she saw me.ā€

ā€œSheā€™s in it, somehow,ā€ muttered Hetherwick.

ā€œThat house looks mysterious enough for anything. Weā€™ll keep a close watch on it, anyway, until Goldmark comes back, however long that may be.ā€

But the Jew was back within twenty minutes. So was the woman. She came first, hurrying up the street quicker than when she had left it. As far as the watchers could make out from their vantage point, twenty yards away from her door, she looked flustered, distressed, upset. After her, on the opposite pavement, came Mr. Issy Goldmark, his hands in his pockets.

The woman re-entered the house; they heard the door bang. A moment later the Jew turned into the entry in which Hetherwick and Mapperley stood, half hidden from the street. He smiled, inscrutably.

ā€œThee her go back to her houth?ā€ he asked. ā€œWell, I followed. I thaw where theeā€™th been, too.ā€

ā€œWhere, then?ā€ demanded Hetherwick, impatiently.

Goldmark jerked his head in the direction from whence he had come.

ā€œRound that corner,ā€ he said, ā€œyou get into a regular thlum. Little thtreeth, alleyth, pathageth, and tho on. In one of ā€™em, a narrow plathe, where thereā€™th a thort of open-air market, thereā€™th a good thithed pieth of blank wall, with an iron-fathenā€™d door in it. Well, the woman went in thereā ā€”let herthelf in with a key that thee took from her pocket. Ath thoon ath theeā€™d gone in, I took a clother look. The doorā€™th fathenā€™d with iron, or thteel, ath I thaidā ā€”jolly thtrong. There ainā€™t no name on it, and no keyhole that you can look through. The wallā€™th a good nine or ten feet high, and itā€™th covered with broken glath at the top. Not a nithe plathe to get into, nohow!ā€

ā€œWell?ā€ inquired Hetherwick. ā€œShe went in?ā€

ā€œWent in, ath I thay, mithter, and the door clothed on her. After Iā€™d taken a glimpth at the door I got a potht behind one of the thtalls in the thtreet and watched. She came out again in about ten minitthā ā€”looked to me, too, ath if thee hadnā€™t had a very plethant time inthide. Upthet! And thee thet off back here, fathter than vhat thee came. Now theeā€™th gone into her houth againā ā€”ath you no doubt thaw. And thatā€™th all. But if I wath you, mithter,ā€ concluded Issy, ā€œI should jutht find out vhat there ith behind that door and the wall itā€™th thet inā ā€”I thhould tho!ā€

ā€œThatā€™s a police job,ā€ said Mapperley once more. ā€œIf weā€™d only got Matherfield with us, we couldā ā€”ā€ Hetherwick pausedā ā€”thinking. ā€œLook here, Mapperley,ā€ he continued, with a sudden inspiration. ā€œI know what weā€™ll do! You get a taxicab, as quickly as possible. Drive to the police station where I usually meet Matherfield. Thereā€™s another man there whom I know, and whoā€™s pretty well up in this businessā ā€”Detective-Sergeant Robmore. Ask for him. Tell him what weā€™ve discovered, and ask him to come back with you and to bring another man if he thinks it necessary. Now then, Goldmark! Tell Mapperley exactly where this place is.ā€

The Jew pointed along the street to its first corner.

ā€œRound that corner,ā€ he said. ā€œFirtht turning to the right; then firtht to the left; then firtht to the rightā ā€”thatā€™th the thpot. Lotā€™th oā€™ little thtallth in itā ā€”a bithy, crowded plathe.ā€

ā€œDidnā€™t ye notice the name?ā€ demanded Mapperley, half scoldingly.

ā€œTo be thure I did!ā€ grinned Goldmark. ā€œPencove Thtreet. But itā€™th better to dethcribe it than to name it. And donā€™t you go tellinā€™ no tackthy-driver to drive you in there!ā ā€”cauthā€™ there ainā€™t room!ā€

Mapperley gave no answer to this piece of advice; he shot off in the direction of Victoria Street, and Hetherwick turned to the Jew.

ā€œWeā€™ll go and have another look at this place, Goldmark,ā€ he said. ā€œBut weā€™ll go separatelyā ā€”as long as weā€™re in this street, anyway. You stroll off to that first corner, and Iā€™ll join you.ā€

He crossed the street when the Jew had lounged away, and once more took a narrow look at the house into which the big woman had vanished. It was as close barred and curtained as ever; a veritable place of mystery. For a moment Hetherwick doubted whether he ought to leave it unwatched. But the descriptions of the wall and door in Pencove Street had excited his imagination, and he went on, turned the corner, and rejoined Goldmark. Goldmark at once went in front, piloting him into a maze of unusually dirty and crowded streets, and finally into one, narrower than the rest, on each side of which were tent-like stalls whereon all manner of cheap wares were being offered for sale by raucous-voiced vendors. He saw at once that this was one of those open-air markets of which there are many in the poorer neighbourhoods of London, and wherein you can buy a sixpenny frying-pan as readily as a paper

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