Ayscough was a cute 'un, and relapsed into thought
until the train pulled up at Praed Street. He followed the detective up
the streets and across the road to the hotel, dumbly wondering how many
times that day he had been in and about that quarter on this apparently
interminable chase. He was getting dazed--but Ayscough who was still
smoking the cigar which Yada had given him, strode along into the hotel
entrance apparently as fresh as paint.
Purdie had a private sitting-room in connection with his bedroom, and
there they found him and Lauriston, both smoking pipes and each evidently
full of thought and speculation. They jumped to their feet as the
detective entered.
"I say!" exclaimed Lauriston. "Is this true?--this about the Chinese chap?
Is it what they think at your police-station?--connected with the other
affairs? We've been waiting, hoping you'd come in!"
"Ah!" said Ayscough, dropping into a chair. "We've been pretty busy, me
and Mr. Rubinstein there--we've had what you might call a pretty full
evening's work of it. Yes--it's true enough, gentlemen--another step in
the ladder--another brick in the building! We're getting on, Mr.
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