oung man who led two pugs!
With blue ribbons on their necks--with blue ribbons on their necks, same
as Christians!"

CHAPTER XXII

THICK FOG

It was half-past eleven when Allerdyke reached Gresham Street: by
half-past one, so curiously and rapidly did events crowd upon each other,
he was in a state of complete mental confusion. He sat down to lunch that
day feeling as a man feels who has lost his way in an unknown country in
the midst of a blinding mist; as a weaver might feel who is at work on an
intricate pattern and suddenly finds all his threads inextricably mixed
up and tangled. Instead of things getting better and clearer, that
morning's work made them more hopelessly muddled.

Chettle was hanging about the door of the warehouse when Allerdyke drove
up. His usually sly look was accentuated that morning, and as soon as
Allerdyke stepped from his cab he drew him aside with a meaning gesture.

"A word or two before we go in, Mr. Allerdyke," he said as they walked a
few steps along the street. "Look here, sir," he went on in a whisper.
"I've been reflecting on things since I saw you last night. Of course,
I'm supposed to be in Hull, you know. But I shall have to report myself
at the Yard this morning--can't avoid that. And I shall have to tell
them why I came up. Now, it's here, Mr. Allerdyke--how much or how
little shall I tell 'em? What I mean sir, is this--do you want to keep
any of this recently acquired knowledge to yourself? Of course, if you
do--well, I needn't tell any more there--at headquarters--than you wish
me to tell. I can easy make excuse for coming up. And, of course, in
that case--"

"Well!" demanded Allerdyke impatiently. "What then?"

Chettle gave him another look of suggestive meaning, and taking off his
square felt hat, wiped his forehead with a big coloured handkerchief.

"Well, of course, Mr. Allerdyke," he said insinuatingly. "Of course, sir,
I'm a poor man, and I've a rising family that I want to do my best for. I
could do with a substantial amount of that reward, you know, Mr.
Allerdyke. We've all a right to do the best we can for ourselves, sir.
And if you're wanting to, follow this affair out on your own, sir,
independent of the police--eh?"

Allerdyke's sense of duty arose in strong protest against this very
palpable suggestion. He shook his head.

"No--no!" he said. "That won't do, Chettle. You must do your duty to your
superiors. You'll find that you'll be all right.