That he had some object in all this was quite certain, but what it was I could not gather.
Suddenly, after an hour, a little under-sized old man of dirty and neglected appearance, who had been drinking at the bar, shuffled up to us, and whispered something to Ambler that I did not catch. The words, nevertheless, caused my companion to start, and, disregarding the fresh whiskey and soda he had just ordered, he rose and walked out--an example which I followed.
"Lanky sent me, sir," the old man said, addressing Ambler, when we were out in the street. "He couldn't come hisself. 'E said you'd like to know the news."
"Of course, I was waiting for it," replied my companion, alert and eager.
"Well," he said, "I suppose I'd better tell yer the truth at once, sir."
"Dead?" cried Ambler. "Impossible. I was waiting for him."
"I know. This morning in the Borough Market he told me to come 'ere and find you, because he wasn't able to come. 'E had a previous engagement. Lanky's engagements were always interestin'," he added, with a grim smile.
"Well, go on," said Ambler, eagerly. "What followed?"
"'E told me to go down to Tait Street and see 'im at eight o'clock, as 'e had a message for you. I went, and when I got there I found 'im lying on the floor of his room stone dead."
"No, I didn't; I came here to see you instead. I believe the poor bloke's been murdered. 'E was a good un, too--poor Lanky Lane!"
"What!" I exclaimed. "Is that man Lane dead?"
"It seems so," Jevons responded. "If he is, then there we have further mystery."
"If you doubt it, sir, come with me down to Shadwell," the old man said in his cockney drawl. "Nobody knows about it yet. I ought to have told the p'lice, but I know you're better at mysterious affairs than the silly coppers in Leman Street."
Jevons' fame as an investigator of crime had spread even to that class known as the submerged tenth. How fashions change! A year or two ago it was the mode in Society to go "slumming." To-day only social reformers and missionaries make excursions to the homes of the lower class in East London. A society woman would not to-day dare admit that she had been further east than Leadenhall Street.
"Let's go and see what has really happened," Ambler said to me. "If Lane is dead, then it proves that his enemy is yours."