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Pinkerton, A. Frank [pseud.]

"Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express"


"What's wanted, you fellers?"
The voice came from behind the two men. Turning, they saw a stout,
ill-looking fellow, with unkempt hair and beard, peering in at them
from the street.
"Ain't this the house where Mrs. Scarlet stops," questioned the
elderly man.
"Mebbe 'tis."
"Where's the woman now?"
"Bless your soul, old man, I don't know. Better call agin; she's allus
in evenings," suggested the man at the edge of the street.
"Mebbe we had," grunted the old man at the door. Then he and his
companion moved out of the alley. They went but a little way when they
came to a full stop, and entered into a low confab.
A pair of keen eyes was watching them during the time, however, and a
little later the man who had addressed the two strangers walked away.
He passed to the rear of the block, and made his way by a back stairs
to a room on the first floor. Here he found the one he was seeking--
Mrs. Scarlet--who was engaged in discussing a supper of bread and
beer.
She was alone.
"Eh? so you're here again, Nick? Did he send ye?"
"The Professor?"
"Who else should I mean?"
"Wall, he didn't, then. I seed a couple of blokes in the alley jist
now, and they 'quired for you.


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