I followed Mr.Jay.My subordinates paid the same delicate attention to the other two.
Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr.Jay led me to the Strand.

He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house, which, according to the inscription over the door, was a newspaper office, but which, in my judgment, had all the external appearance of a place devoted to the reception of stolen goods.
After remaining inside for a few minutes, he came out whistling, with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket.

Some men would now have arrested him on the spot.

I remembered the necessity of catching the two confederates, and the importance of not interfering with the appointment that had been made for the next morning.

Such coolness as this, under trying circumstances, is rarely to be found, I should imagine, in a young beginner, whose reputation as a detective policeman is still to make.
From the house of suspicious appearance Mr.Jay betook himself to a cigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot.