"You never know what lies at the bottom o' these affairs, no more you don't." That last observation decided Spargo; moreover, the old instinct for getting news began to assert itself.
"All right," he said.

"I'll go along with you." And re-lighting his pipe he followed the little cortege through the streets, still deserted and quiet, and as he walked behind he reflected on the unobtrusive fashion in which murder could stalk about.

Here was the work of murder, no doubt, and it was being quietly carried along a principal London thoroughfare, without fuss or noise, by officials to whom the dealing with it was all a matter of routine.

Surely-- "My opinion," said a voice at Spargo's elbow, "my opinion is that it was done elsewhere.

Not there! He was put there.