"Very interesting," Moriarty said. "You did well. You should have taken a cab here, though. I would have reimbursed you."
"Ain't no cab going to stop for me, Professor, even if I waves the money at the jarvey. Which I 'as done."
"I see. Well, you shall leave here in a cab. I'll have one here to take you wherever you wish to go. Can you tell me which way they took the Mummer as they left you?"
"Better 'n that," the beggar said, "I can show you what building they took 'im into."
"Excellent!" Moriarty said. "And so you shall. Go into the kitchen and tell Mrs. H to feed you. I'll be along presently, and we'll take a trip together. We must be quick about it, though."
"I'll be quicker than quick, Professor," the Kensington Wheeler said. "I'm not much of a one for eating, but if I could 'ave a drop o' something before we leaves, it would restore my spirits like."
"Whatever you like," Moriarty said. "Tell Mrs. H." He crossed the hall to his study while the Kensington Wheeler propelled himself to the rear of the house. After ringing for Mr. Maws, Moriarty touched a concealed stud on the left side of the bookcase behind his desk, and it promptly slid forward. Moriarty swung the bookcase aside and opened the cabinet behind it.
"You rang?" Mr. Maws stood by the door.
"Yes. Have you seen Mr. Barnett this morning?"
"I believe that he has just come down to breakfast, sir," Mr. Maws volunteered.
"Good," Moriarty said. "I shall require him — and you, Mr. Maws, if you would be good enough to accompany me." He slid open a door in the cabinet and contemplated the row of revolvers contained therein.
"Is it about Mr. Tolliver, sir?" Mr. Maws inquired.
"Yes. The Mummer seems to have fallen into the hands of the opposition. I have no idea what they plan to do with him, but I rather fancy it would be a good idea not to give them the time to do too good a job of it."
"Very good, sir," Mr. Maws said. "If we are to go armed, sir, I would prefer one of the Webley-Fosbery.455-caliber revolvers."
Moriarty handed over the requested weapon and a box of shells. "Change clothes into something a bit less butler-like," he said. "And ask Barnett to step in here as you pass the dining room."
"Very good, sir," Mrs. Maws said.
A minute later Barnett came into the study. Moriarty quickly informed him of what was happening and handed him a Smith &c Wesson hammerless revolver and ammunition. "This is for self-protection," he said, "and, if necessary, a show of force. I don't know what we'll be coming up against, but if Trepoff is any part of it we'd best be prepared. He is a violently dangerous man."
Barnett loaded the revolver and thrust it into his belt. "Won't your London police object to gunplay of a Sunday afternoon?"
"It may require a bit of explaining," Moriarty admitted. "We could always tell them we are rehearsing an amateur theatrical. On the whole, it would be best if we don't have to use these weapons. Besides, I would like to speak with Tolliver's captors in some detail, a task which will be rendered easier if they are still alive."
"And," Barnett added, "if we are."
"True," Moriarty replied, buttoning his jacket and selecting a walking stick from the rack. "Let us be on our way. Oh, there you are, Mr. Maws. See about capturing us a growler, if you will, while I retrieve the Kensington Wheeler from the kitchen."
It was just past noon when the four-wheeler turned into Little George Street and pulled up at the Church of St. Jude. "We'd best stop here," Moriarty said. "Mr. Maws, if you would help the Wheeler down, we'll make sure we have the right building."
"I'll point 'er out to you, Professor," the Kensington Wheeler said, "but I ain't going inside with you. That there is your affair."
"Good enough," Moriarty said. "Just point the house out to Mr. Maws and you'll have more than earned your money." He closed the door of the cab. "Wait around the corner," he told the driver. "I don't know how long we'll be."
The driver touched his whip to his hat, and the four-wheeler clattered off.
Mr. Maws walked off alongside the wheeler and was back in a minute. "Fifth house down on the right, just as the gentleman described it," he said. "Far as I can tell there's no one at the windows. The blinds are drawn. How are we going to get in?"
"I've been giving it some thought," Moriarty said. "I could impersonate a gas man, but even a Russian wouldn't believe that if he remembered it's Sunday. Also, there may or may not be some urgency, depending on what plans they have for Tolliver. All in all, I'm afraid, the direct approach is the best."
"Then let's go!" Barnett said.
"Remember," Moriarty said, "an absolute minimum of violence. We want prisoners."
With that, the three of them walked at a measured rate down the street to the fifth house and mounted the stoop. Moriarty knocked gently on the door.
" 'Oo's there?" a voice came through the closed door after a minute.
"It's Father Banion," Moriarty said in a deep, melodious voice, his face pressed close to the door. "I understand there's a sick man in there who requested my presence."
The bolt was pulled and the latch lifted. "There's no one sick in here, Father," the man inside said, opening the door slightly to pass the word.
Mr. Maws hit the door solidly with his shoulder and sprung it open. In a flash Moriarty was inside and had grabbed the man and wrapped an arm around his mouth. "There'll be someone very sick if you try to make a sound," he whispered. "I'll break your neck!"
The man struggled for a moment and then was still. His reaction was not one of belligerence, but rather of great surprise.
"Who are you?" Moriarty asked softly. "Don't raise your voice!" He released his hold on the man's neck enough for him to catch his breath and reply.
"I'm the porter, sir," the man squeaked. "And who are you? Sir?"
"Scotland Yard," Moriarty said. "This house is surrounded."
The man's mouth fell open. "The p'lice!" he said. "It's them foreign-looking gentlemen, ain't it?"
"What do you know about them?" Moriarty demanded in an undertone. "Speak quickly!"
"Nuffin', sir. They been here about a fortnight, sir. I didn't do nuffin', sir, whatever they did. There's a whole bunch of them upstairs now."
"I see," Moriarty said, "And how many to a bunch, my man?"
"I didn't watch them come in, you know. They don't like it if they think I'm watching them." The porter sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his nose. "I'd say maybe a dozen, maybe a few more'n that."
Moriarty released the porter and turned to his two companions. "We seem to have bitten off a hefty morsel," he said.
"We could rush them," Mr. Maws said, flexing his shoulders.
"We could, indeed," Moriarty agreed. "Which would put us somewhat in the position of the fox rushing the hounds. But it is an option." He turned to the porter. "I'm afraid there's going to be some excitement here for the next little while. Have you a room? Good. Go to it now, and don't come out of it for the next half-hour."
When the man had gone, Moriarty stepped to the foot of the stairs and listened. The sound of subdued conversation came from above. "It doesn't sound like an interrogation," Moriarty said. "They probably have Tolliver locked up in one of the upstairs rooms while they discuss other matters."
"Perhaps one of their number is heating the hot irons even now, while the rest of them talk," Barnett suggested.
Moriarty shook his head. "They've only had him here for a few hours," he said. "And this must be a regularly scheduled meeting. Or, rather, a specially scheduled meeting, since these people usually don't assemble in groups larger than three. But at any rate, it must have been set in advance of their capturing Tolliver."