One small clue they got, with little difficulty. After the hue-and-cry was
fairly out, an Edgware Road pawnbroker came forward and informed the
police that at two o'clock, or thereabouts, on the afternoon of the day on
which Yada had made his escape from the window, a young Japanese gentleman
who gave his name as Mr. Motono and his address at a small hotel close by
and who volunteered the explanation that he was temporarily short of cash
until a remittance arrived, had borrowed five pounds from him on a pearl
tie-pin which he had drawn from his cravat. That was Yada, without a
doubt--but from that point Yada vanished.
But hunger is the cleverest detective, and at the end of the fortnight,
certain officials of the Japanese embassy in London found themselves
listening to a strange tale from the fugitive, who had come to the end of
his loan, had nowhere to turn and no one but the representatives of his
nation to whom he could appeal. Yada told a strange tale--and all the
stranger because, as the police officials who were called in to hear it
anew recognized that there was probably some truth in it. It amounted,
when all was heard, to this--Yada was willing to confess that for a few
days he had been a successful thief, but he stoutly denied that he was a
murderer.
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