"'Then, if anything new occurs, you will let me know at once.'
"'And if it should happen,' said our reporter, 'that you remember anything you have forgotten to tell me, you will come and let me know it?'
"Wishing her good-night again, he left the house, and heard her close the street door behind him with a bang.
"It was not without a motive that our reporter had addressed his last words to her. He had an idea that she had not been quite frank with him respecting M. Felix's visitors feeling assured that she could not be so entirely in the dark regarding them as she professed to be. His visit had not been fruitless; he had become acquainted with the loss of the desk, and he had discovered the dagger with its curiously shaped handle. Two steps advanced in the mystery, which might lead to something of importance.
"He walked slowly on, revolving these matters in his mind, and debating whether he could make any present use of them when his coat was plucked by a small hand. Looking down, he saw Sophy.
"'Ah, Sophy,' he said, 'what do you want?'
"'I've been waiting for yer,' said Sophy. 'I've got somethink to tell.'
"Sophy's reply was a strange one. 'I know,' she said, where they sells fried fish and fried 'taters.' She smacked her lips.
"'You're a brick, old 'un, that's what you are.'
"She walked close to him, rubbing against him after the fashion of a friendly cat, and conducted him toward the purlieus of Drury Lane.
"'You're going to stand treat, ain't yer?'
"'Yes, Sophy, to as many fried potatoes and as much fried fish as you can comfortably tuck away.'
"'Don't say afterwards as I took you in. My inside's made of injer rubber. The more I puts in it the more it stretches.'
"'You're somethink like a gent. I say, was aunty riled at the runaway knock?'
"'Yes, it was me; I was gitting tired of waiting for yer. She's close, ain't she?'
"'Yes; but I'm closer, I am. I could tell 'er somethink as 'd make 'er 'air stand on end.'
"'Per'aps. If yer make it wuth my while.'
"'You shall have no reason to complain, Sophy. Is it about M. Felix?'
"Burning as he was with curiosity, our reporter wisely restrained his impatience. They had now arrived at the fried-potato shop, and Sophy stood before the open window with eager eyes. The potatoes were frizzling in the pan, and were being served out hot by a greasy Italian. His customers were of the very poorest sort, and most of them received the smoking hot potatoes in the street, and went away to eat them. You could purchase a half-penny's worth or a penny's worth the paper bags in which they were delivered being of different sizes. On the open slab in the window were pieces of fried plaice, tails, heads, and middles, the price varying according to the size. A few aristocratic customers were inside the shop, sitting upon narrow wooden benches, and eating away with an air of great enjoyment.