"
Kerry chewed furiously for ten momentous seconds, then:
"I'll come!" he said.
He replaced the receiver on the hook, and, walking across to the
charge desk, took an official form and a pen. On the back of the
form he scribbled rapidly, watched with curiosity by the officer
in charge.
"Give me an envelope," he directed.
An envelope was found and handed to him. He placed the paper in
the envelope, gummed down the lapel, and addressed it in large,
bold writing to the Assistant Commissioner of the Criminal
Investigation Department, who was his chief. Finally:
"I'm going out," he explained.
"After what I've said?"
"After what you've said. I'm going out. If I don't come back or
don't telephone within the next hour, you will know what to do
with this."
The Limehouse official stared perplexedly.
"But meanwhile," he protested, "what steps am I to take about the
murder? Durham will be back with the body at any moment now, and
you say you've got a clue to the murderer."
"I have," said Kerry, "but I'm going to get definite evidence.
Do nothing until you hear from me."
"Very good," answered the other, and Kerry, tucking his malacca
cane under his arm, strode out into the fog.
His knowledge of the Limehouse area was extensive and peculiar,
so that twenty minutes later, having made only one mistake in the
darkness, he was pressing an electric bell set beside a door
which alone broke the expanse of a long and dreary brick wall,
lining a street which neither by day nor night would have seemed
inviting to the casual visitor.
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