traction-engines drawing strings of lorries, and continually meeting
delay in the form of those breakdowns which are of hourly occurrence
in this congested but rugged highway.

In the West India Dock Road the way became slightly more open, but
when at last I alighted and entered the dock gates I recognized that
every newspaper and news agency in the kingdom was apparently
represented. Jones, of the _Gleaner_, was coming out as I went in,
and:

"Hello, Addison!" he cried, "this is quite in your line! It's as mad
as 'Alice in Wonderland.'"

I did not delay, however, but hurried on in the direction of a dock
building, at the door of which was gathered a heterogeneous group
comprising newspaper men, dock officials, police and others who were
unclassifiable. Half a dozen acquaintances greeted me as I came up,
and I saw that the door was closed and that a constable stood on duty
before it.

"I call it damned impudence, Addison!" exclaimed one pressman. "The
dock people are refusing everybody information until Inspector
Somebody-or-Other arrives from New Scotland Yard. I should think he
has stopped on the way to get his lunch."

The speaker glanced impatiently at his watch and I went to speak to
the man on duty.

"You have orders to admit no one, constable?" I asked.