The old Jew who had the
second-hand clothes shop Mrs. Leaver used to keep told me that the boy
had gone off with that private detective, Crewe, more than two years ago.
So it looks to me as if he has turned nark and Crewe has put him on to
watch you."
"Can you describe this boy more closely?"
"Well, sir, I don't know if I can say anything more about him except that
he has red hair and big bright eyes that are too large for his face."
"I thought so," said Holymead as if speaking to himself. "It's the
same boy."
"What did you say, sir?" asked Kemp.
"Nothing, Kemp, except that I think I've seen a boy of this description
hanging about the street near the hotel."
Holymead rose to his feet as he spoke, as an indication that the
interview was at an end. Kemp got up and looked at him anxiously.
"I beg your pardon, sir, for coming here," he said, fumbling with the rim
of his hat as he spoke. "I didn't know how you'd take it, but I hope I've
done right. They didn't want to let me see you."
"You did quite right, Kemp. I am very much obliged to you." He was
feeling in his pocket for silver, but Kemp stopped him.
"No, no, sir. I don't want to be paid anything.
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