"What is it?"
"You're watched and followed, sir," said Kemp in a whisper. "Somebody has
been watching this place for days past and whenever you go out you're
followed."
"By whom?" asked Holymead.
"By a varmint of a boy--a slippery young imp whose father's in gaol for
a long stretch. I got hold of him this afternoon and told him what I'd
do to him if he kept on with his game. He's living in an old loft at
the back of the hotel garage, and he keeps a watch on you day and
night. I thought I'd better come here and tell you, as you mightn't
know about him."
"You did quite right, Kemp. What's this boy like?"
"An undersized putty-faced brat with a big head. He's about fourteen or
fifteen, I should say."
"Who is he? Do you know him?"
"Leaver is the name, sir. To tell you the truth, I don't know him as well
as I know his father. His father is a 'lifer' for manslaughter. I've
known him both in and out of gaol. And when I was coming out four months
ago Bob Leaver, this here boy's father, asked me to look up his family
and send him word about them. I went to the address Bob told me, in
Islington, but I found they had all gone. The mother was dead and the
kids--a girl and this here boy--had cleared out.
Pages:
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391