“What is your own opinion of the case, Sergeant?”

“I think it’s serious, sir.  Judging by what the boy saw, the Indians are in it, to begin with.”

“Yes.  And the sailor is evidently the person to whom Mr. Luker passed the Diamond.  It seems odd that Mr. Bruff, and I, and the man in Mr. Bruff’s employment, should all have been mistaken about who the person was.”

“Not at all, Mr. Blake.  Considering the risk that person ran, it’s likely enough that Mr. Luker purposely misled you, by previous arrangement between them.”

“Do you understand the proceedings at the public-house?” I asked.  “The man dressed like a mechanic was acting of course in the employment of the Indians.  But I am as much puzzled to account for his sudden assumption of drunkenness as Gooseberry himself.”

“I think I can give a guess at what it means, sir,” said the Sergeant.  “If you will reflect, you will see that the man must have had some pretty strict instructions from the Indians.  They were far too noticeable themselves to risk being seen at the bank, or in the public-house—­they were obliged to trust everything to their deputy.  Very good.  Their deputy hears a certain number named in the public-house, as the number of the room which the sailor is to have for the night—­that being also the room (unless our notion is all wrong) which the Diamond is to have for the night, too.  Under those circumstances, the Indians, you may rely on it, would insist on having a description of the room—­of its position in the house, of its capability of being approached from the outside, and so on.  What was the man to do, with such orders as these?  Just what he did!  He ran up-stairs to get a look at the room, before the sailor was taken into it.  He was found there, making his observations—­and he shammed drunk, as the easiest way of getting out of the difficulty.  That’s how I read the riddle.  After he was turned out of the public-house, he probably went with his report to the place where his employers were waiting for him.  And his employers, no doubt, sent him back to make sure that the sailor was really settled at the public-house till the next morning.  As for what happened at ’The Wheel of Fortune,’ after the boy left—­we ought to have discovered that last night.  It’s eleven in the morning, now.  We must hope for the best, and find out what we can.”

In a quarter of an hour more, the cab stopped in Shore Lane, and Gooseberry opened the door for us to get out.

“All right?” asked the Sergeant.

“All right,” answered the boy.

The moment we entered “The Wheel of Fortune” it was plain even to my inexperienced eyes that there was something wrong in the house.

The only person behind the counter at which the liquors were served, was a bewildered servant girl, perfectly ignorant of the business.  One or two customers, waiting for their morning drink, were tapping impatiently on the counter with their money.  The bar-maid appeared from the inner regions of the parlour, excited and preoccupied.  She answered Sergeant Cuff’s inquiry for the landlord, by telling him sharply that her master was up-stairs, and was not to be bothered by anybody.