"Haven't you read about--" he held a crumpled evening paper in his hand. "The tragedy, I mean."
"Oh yes," she said. "Very sad, isn't it?"
A man came between them. "'Ullo, Polly, lovely weather, don't it?" he said, cheerfully, counting out six coppers, and making them into a neat pile on the table. "Same as usual."
"Now then, Mister Smart!" said Polly, facetiously, bringing him a glass of whisky. "All the soda."
"Up to the pretty, please," he said, adding "Whoa-er" as the soda-water bubbled to the level of the fluted decorations round the glass. Small talk followed, frequently interrupted by fresh arrivals. A quarter of an hour passed. The cheerful man had one more drink, and finally departed, with Polly admonishing him to "Be good," to which he replied, "I always am." Humphrey ordered another Cannock.
"Who?" asked Polly. "Mr Jobling--the man who's gone out?"
"I'm sure I don't know," she said a little distantly. "Those gentlemen over there"--nodding to a corner of the bar where two men stood in the shadows--"can tell you all about him. They were telling me something about him just before you came in. Fourpence, please."
Humphrey took with him his glass of beer, and went to the two men. They were both drinking whisky, and they seemed to be in a good humour. They turned at Humphrey's wavering "Excuse me...."
"Excuse me..." Humphrey repeated. "I'm told you knew Mr Bellowes."
"Well," said the other man, a little truculently. "What if we did?"
It seemed to Humphrey that the most absolute frankness was desirable here.
"Look here," he said, "I wish you'd help me by telling me something about him. Here's my card.... I'm on _The Day_."
The younger of the two men smiled, and winked. "You've got a nerve," he said. "Why, you couldn't print it if we told you."
"Couldn't I? Well, never mind. Let's have a drink on it anyway."
Humphrey began his third Cannock, and the others drank whisky. One of them, in drinking, spilt a good deal of the liquor over his coat lapel, and did not bother to wipe it off: he was slightly drunk.
"It's bringing a bad reputation on the firm," said the elder man. "Name in all the papers."
Humphrey was seized with an idea. He knew now that the whole secret of the mystery was within his grasp. One of the men, at least, was from the solicitor's office. The instinct of the journalist made him courageous: he would never leave the bar until he got the story.