a doorway. Her suspicions had been aroused, I think, for she looked round her. Then she called a cab and got in. I was lucky enough to get another and so to follow her. She got down at last at No. 86, Poultney Square, Brixton. I drove past, left my cab at the corner of the square, and watched the house.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“The windows were all in darkness save one on the lower floor. The blind was down, and I could not see in. I was standing there, wondering what I should do next, when a covered van drove up with two men in it. They descended, took something out of the van, and carried it up the steps to the hall door. Mr. Holmes, it was a coffin.”
“Ah!”
“For an instant I was on the point of rushing in. The door had been opened to admit the men and their burden. It was the woman who had opened it. But as I stood there she caught a glimpse of me, and I think that she recognised me. I saw her start, and she hastily closed the door. I remembered my promise to you, and here I am.”
“You have done excellent work,” said Holmes scribbling a few words upon a half-sheet of paper. “We can do nothing legal without a warrant, and you can serve the cause best by taking this note down to the authorities and getting one.
