idea in walking to the Sowell Street house was obviously to prevent
the new cabman from seeing him enter it. But, just where he thought
he was clever, was just where he tripped. If he had remained with
his trunks he would have seen that the cabman was the same one who
had brought them and him from Craven Street, and he would have
given any other address in London than the one he did.

"And now," said Ford, "that we have Pearsall where we want him,
tell me what you have learned about Prothero?"

Cuthbert smiled importantly, and produced a piece of paper
scribbled over with notes.

"Prothero," he said, "seems to be THIS sort of man. If he made your
coffee for you, before you tasted it, you'd like him to drink a cup
of it first."

II

"Prothero," said Cuthbert, "is a man of mystery. As soon as I
began asking his neighbors questions, I saw he was of interest and
that I was of interest. I saw they did not believe I was an agent
of a West End shop, but a detective. So they wouldn't talk at all,
or else they talked freely. And from one of them, a chemist named
Needham, I got all I wanted. He's had a lawsuit against Prothero,
and hates him. Prothero got him to invest in a medicine to cure the
cocaine habit. Needham found the cure was no cure, but cocaine
disguised. He sued for his money, and during the trial the police
brought in Prothero's record. Needham let me copy it, and it seems
to embrace every crime except treason. The man is a Russian Jew. He