hand and filling them from a steaming urn. "There's no more
sugar tonight."

"Not any brown sugar?" asked the customer.

"Yez can have one tayspoon of brown, and no more tonight," cried Dougal.

He stooped rapidly below the counter, then pushed the three cups of
coffee towards the detective. The latter tossed a shilling down, at
which Dougal glared ferociously.

"'Twas wid sugar ye said!" he roared.

A second shilling followed. Dougal swept both coins into a drawer and
turned to another customer, who was also clamoring for coffee. Securing
their cups with difficulty, for the red-headed man surlily refused to
budge, they retired to a comparatively quiet spot, and Seton tasted the
hot beverage.

"H'm," he said. "Rum! Good rum, too!"

"It's a nice position for me," snapped Kerry. "I don't think I would
remind you that there's a police station actually on this blessed
island. If there was a dive like Dougal's anywhere West it would be
raided as a matter of course. But to shut Dougal's would be to raise
hell. There are two laws in England, sir; one for Piccadilly and the
other for the Isle of Dogs!" He sipped his coffee with appreciation.
Jervis looked about him cautiously, and:

"That's George--the red-headed hooligan against the counter," he said.
"He's been liquoring up pretty freely, and I shouldn't be surprised to
find that he's got a job on tonight. He has a skiff beached below here,
and I think he's waiting for the tide."

"Good!" rapped Kerry. "Where can we find a boat?"

"Well," Jervis smiled. "There are several lying there if you didn't come
in an R.P. boat."

"We did. But I'll dismiss it. We want a small boat."

"Very good, sir. We shall have to pinch one!"

"That doesn't matter," declared Kerry glancing at Seton with a sudden
twinkle discernible in his steely eyes. "What do you say, sir?"

"I agree with you entirely," replied Seton quietly. "We must find a
boat, and lie off somewhere to watch for George. He should be worth
following."

"We'll be moving, then," said the Leman Street detective. "It will be
high tide in an hour."

They finished their coffee as quickly as possible; the stuff was not far
below boiling-point. Then Jervis returned the cups to the counter. "Good
night, Pat!" he cried, and rejoined Seton and Kerry.

As they came out into the desolation of the scrap heaps, the last traces
of fog had disappeared and a steady breeze came up the river, fresh
and salty from the Nore. Jerv