In a quarter of an hour the Assistant-Commissioner was at the police-station.
"Yes, sir," said the station sergeant, "he's quiet now. I don't think he's so very drunk, only pugilistically so."
"He's a sailor; a deserter from some foreign navy, I should say. He has underclothes of a uniform type, and there's a sort of device on his singlet--three stars and a number."
"Brazilian Navy," said T. B. with promptness. "Talkative?"
"In his own language, very," he said drily. "When I searched him, he said a great number of things which were probably very rude."
On either side were long stone-painted doors, each with a little steel wicket.
Stopping before one door, he inserted his bright key in the lock, snapped back a polished bolt, and the door swung open.
A man who was sitting on a wooden bench with his head in his hands, jumped to his feet as the Assistant-Commissioner entered, and poured forth a volume of language.
"Softly, softly," said T. B. "You speak French, my friend."
"Oui, monsieur," said the man. "Though I am Spanish."
"You are a deserter from a Brazilian warship," said T. B.
"I should like to smoke," was all that he said.
T. B. took his gold case from an inside pocket and opened it.
"Many thanks," said the sailor, and took the lighted match the gaoler had struck.
If he had known the ways of the English police, he would have grown suspicious. Elsewhere, a man might be bullied, browbeaten, frightened into a confession. In France, Juge d'Instruction and detective would combine to wring from his reluctant lips a damaging admission. In America, the Third Degree, most despicable of police methods, would have been similarly employed.
But the English police do most things by kindness, and do them very well.
The sailor puffed at his cigarette, from time to time looking up from the bench on which he sat at the detective's smiling face.
T. B. asked no questions; he had none to ask; he did not demand how the man came by his wealth; he would not be guilty of such a crudity. He waited for the sailor to talk. At last he spoke.
"Monsieur," he said, "you wish to know where I got my money?"
"Honestly," said the sailor loudly, and with emphatic gesture; "honestly, monsieur;" and he went on earnestly, "By my way of reckoning, a man has a price."