We followed Mayes's example by stopping the cab in Charterhouse Street,
and walking the short remaining distance to Barbican. Norbury Row was an
obscure street behind it, at the corner of which stood "The Compasses,"
the public-house which Plummer had mentioned. We did not venture to show
ourselves in Norbury Row, but hastened into the nearest door of "The
Compasses," which chanced to be that of the private bar.
A stout, red-faced, slow-moving man with one eye and a black patch,
stood behind the bar. Plummer lifted his finger and pointed quickly
toward the bar-parlour; and at the signal the one-eyed man turned with
great deliberation and pulled a catch which released the door of that
apartment, close at our elbows. We stepped quickly within, and presently
the one-eyed man came rolling in by the other door.
"Well, good art'noon, Mr. Plummer, sir," he said, with a long
intonation and a wheeze. "Good art'noon, sir. You've bin a stranger
lately."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Moon," Plummer answered, briskly. "We've come for
a little information, my friend and I, which I'm sure you'll give us if
you can."
"All the years I've been knowed to the police," answered Mr. Moon,
slower and wheezier as he went on, "I've allus give 'em all the
information I could, an' that's a fact. Ain't it, Mr. Plummer?"
"Yes, of course, and we don't forget it. What we want now----"
"Allus tell 'em what--ever I knows," rumbled Mr. Moon, turning to me,
"allus; an' glad to do it, too. 'Cause why? Ain't they the police? Very
well then, I tells 'em. Allus tells 'em!"
Plummer waited patiently while Mr. Moon stared solemnly at me after this
speech. Then, when the patch slowly turned in my direction and the eye
in his, he resumed, "We want to know if you know anything about No. 8
Norbury Row?"
"Number eight," Mr. Moon mused, gazing abstractedly out of the window;
"num--ber eight. Ground-floor, Stevens, packing-case maker; first-floor,
Hutt, agent in fancy-goods; second-floor, dunno. Name o' Richardson,
bookbinder, on the door, but that's bin there five or six year now, and
it ain't the same tenant. Richardson's dead, an' this one don't bind no
books as I can see. I don't even remember seein' him _very_ often.
Tallish, darkish sort o' gent he is, and don't seem to have many
visitors. Well, then there's the top-floor--but I s'pose it's the same
tenant. Richardson used to have it for his workshop. That's all."
"Have you got a window we can watch it from?"
Mr. Moon turned ponderously round and without a word led the way to the
first floor, puffing enormously on the stairs.
"You _can_ see it from the club-room," he said at length, "but this 'ere
little place is better."
He pushed open a door, and we entered a small sitting-room. "That's the
place," he said, pointing. "There's a new packing-case a-standing
outside now."
Norbury Row presented an appearance common enough in parts of the city a
little way removed from the centre. A street of houses that once had
sheltered well-to-do residents had gradually sunk in the world to the
condition of tenement-houses, and now was on the upward grade again,
being let in floors to the smaller sort of manufacturers, and to such
agents and small commercial men as required cheap offices. No. 8 was
much like the rest. A packing-case maker had the ground-floor, as Moon
had said, and a token of his trade, in the shape of a new packing-case,
stood on the pavement. The rest of the building showed nothing
distinctive.
"There y'are, gents," said Mr. Moon, "if you want to watch, you're
welcome, bein' the p'lice, which I allus does my best for, allus. But
you'll have to excuse me now, 'cos o' the bar."
Mr. Moon stumped off downstairs, leaving Plummer and myself watching at
the window.
"Your friend the publican seems very proud of helping the police," I
remarked.
Plummer laughed. "Yes," he said, "or at any rate, he is anxious we
shan't forget it. You see, it's in some way a matter of mutual
accommodation. We make things as easy as possible for him on licensing
days, and as he has a pretty extensive acquaintance among the sort of
people we often want to get hold of, he has been able to show his
gratitude very handsomely once or twice."
The house on which our eyes were fixed was a little too far up the
street for us to see perfectly through the window of the second-floor,
though we could see enough to indicate that it was furnished as an
office. We agreed that the unknown second-floor tenant was more likely
to be our customer, or connected with him, than either of the others.
Still, we much desired a nearer view, and presently, since the coast
seemed clear, Plummer announced his intention of taking one.
He left me at the post of observation, and presently I saw him lounging
along on the other side of the way, keeping close to the houses, so as
to escape observation from the upper windows. He took a good look at the
names on the door-post of No. 8, and presently stepped within.