I frequented all sorts of public bars and
eating-houses used by foreign and Asiatics. By day and by night I
roamed about the dismal thoroughfares of that depressing district,
usually with my flag down to imply that I was engaged.
Such diligence never goes long unrewarded. One evening, having
discharged a passenger, a mercantile officer, at the East India Docks,
as I was drifting, watchfully, back through Limehouse, I saw a large
car pull up just ahead of me in the dark. A man got out and the car
was driven off.
Two courses presented themselves. I was not sure that this was the
car for which I sought, but it strangely resembled it. Should I follow
the car or the man? A rapid decision was called for. I followed the man.
That I had not been mistaken in the identity of the car shortly
appeared. The man took out a cigar and standing on the corner opposite
the Town Hall, lighted it. I was close to him at the time, and by the
light of the match, which he sheltered with his hands, I saw the
scarred and bearded face! _Triomphe!_ it was he!
Having lighted his cigar, he crossed the road and entered the saloon
of a neighbourhood public-house. Locking my cab I, also, entered that
saloon. I ordered a glass of bitter beer and glanced around at the
object of my interest. He had obtained a glass of brandy and was
contorting his hideous face as he sipped the beverage. I laughed.
"Have they tried to poison you, mister!" I said.
"Ah,_pardieu!_ poison--yes!" he replied.
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