promised to post the address when found, I took my way to home. We're on the
track anyhow. I am tired tonight, and I want to sleep. Mina is fast asleep, and
looks a little too pale. Her eyes look as though she had been crying. Poor dear,
I've no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark, and it may make her doubly
anxious about me and the others. But it is best as it is. It is better to be
disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The
doctors were quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadful business. I
must be firm, for on me this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever
enter on the subject with her under any circumstances. Indeed, It may not be a
hard task, after all, for she herself has become reticent on the subject, and has
not spoken of the Count or his doings ever since we told her of our decision.
2 October, evening--A long and trying and exciting day. By the first post I got my
directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, on which was written with
a carpenter's pencil in a sprawling hand, "Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4 Poters Cort,
Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk for the depite."
I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina. She looked heavy and
sleepy and pale, and far from well. I determined not to wake her, but that when I
should return from this new search, I would arrange for her going back to Exeter.
I think she would be happier in our own home, with her daily tasks to interest her,
than in being here amongst us and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a
moment, and told him where I was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest
so soon as I should have found out anything. I drove to Walworth and found, with
some difficulty, Potter's Court. Mr. Smollet's spelling misled me, as I asked for
Poter's Court instead of Potter's Court. However, when I had found the court, I
had no difficulty in discovering Corcoran's lodging house.
When I asked the man who came to the door for the "depite," he shook his head,
and said, "I dunno 'im. There ain't no such a person 'ere. I never 'eard of 'im in all
my bloomin' days. Don't believe there ain't nobody of that kind livin' 'ere or
I took out Smollet's letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that the lesson of the
spelling of the name of the court might guide me. "What are you?" I asked.
"I'm the depity," he answered.
I saw at once that I was on the right track. Phonetic spelling had again misled
me. A half crown tip put the deputy's knowledge at my disposal, and I learned
that Mr. Bloxam, who had slept off the remains of his beer on the previous night
at Corcoran's, had left for his work at Poplar at five o'clock that morning. He
could not tell me where the place of work was situated, but he had a vague idea
that it was some kind of a "new-fangled ware'us," and with this slender clue I had
to start for Poplar. It was twelve o'clock before I got any satisfactory hint of such
a building, and this I got at a coffee shop, where some workmen were having
their dinner. One of them suggested that there was being erected at Cross Angel
Street a new "cold storage" building, and as this suited the condition of a "new-
fangled ware'us," I at once drove to it. An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a
surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm, put me
on the track of Bloxam. He was sent for on my suggestion that I was willing to
pay his days wages to his foreman for the privilege of asking him a few questions