"Hello! Is that you, Dollops?"
"Yessir."
"Any news for me? Found that chap with the straggling black moustache
that tried to do me in the other night? I've not a doubt that you've
discovered the answer to the whole riddle, by the look upon your face."
Dollops cautiously approached, looking over his shoulder as though he
expected any minute that the cadaverous face of Borkins would peer in at
him, or that perhaps Dacre Wynne himself would rise from the dead and
shake an accusing finger in his face. He reached Cleek and laid a timid
hand upon the detective's arm. Then he bent his face close to Cleek's
ear.
"Well, I've an inklin' that I'm well on to the untyin' of it, s'help me
if I ain't!" he whispered in highly melodramatic tones.
Cleek laughed, but looked interested at once, while Mr. Narkom prepared
to give his best attention to what the lad had to say.
"Traced the blighter wiv the straggling whiskers on 'is lip, anyway!" he
said, triumphantly, casting still another glance over his shoulder in the
direction of the door, and lowering his tones still further.
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