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and sat down on the edge of the bed。
In connecting Pearsall with Gerridge's； both the police and himself had
failed。 Of this there were three possible explanations： that the girl who
wrote the letter was in error； that the letter was a hoax； that the proprietor
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of the hotel； for some reason； was protecting Pearsall； and had deceived
both Ford and Scotland Yard。 On the other hand； without knowing why the
girl believed Pearsall would be found at Gerridge's； it was reasonable to
assume that in so thinking she had been purposely misled。 The question
was； should he or not dismiss Gerridge's as a possible clew； and at once
devote himself to finding the house in Sowell Street？ He decided for the
moment at least； to leave Gerridge's out of his calculations； but； as an
excuse for returning there； to still retain his room。 He at once started
toward Sowell Street； and in order to find out if any one from the hotel
were following him； he set forth on foot。 As soon as he made sure he was
not spied upon； he covered the remainder of the distance in a cab。
He was acting on the supposition that the letter was no practical joke；
but a genuine cry for help。 Sowell Street was a scene set for such an
adventure。 It was narrow； mean… looking； the stucco house…fronts； soot…
stained； cracked； and uncared…for； the steps broken and unwashed。 As he
entered it a cold rain was falling； and a yellow fog that rolled between the
houses added to its dreariness。 It was now late in the afternoon； and so
overcast the sky that in many rooms the gas was lit and the curtains drawn。
The girl； apparently from observing the daily progress of the sun； had
written she was on the west side of the street and； she believed； in an
upper story。 The man who picked up the note had said he had found it
opposite the houses in the middle of the block。 Accordingly； Ford
proceeded on the supposition that the entire east side of the street； the
lower stories of the west side； and the houses at each end were eliminated。
The three houses in the centre of the row were outwardly alike。 They were
of four stories。 Each was the residence of a physician； and in each； in the
upper stories； the blinds were drawn。 From the front there was nothing to
be learned； and in the hope that the rear might furnish some clew； Ford
hastened to Wimpole Street； in which the houses to the east backed upon
those to the west in Sowell Street。 These houses were given over to
furnished lodgings； and under the pretext of renting chambers； it was easy
for Ford to enter them； and from the apartments in the rear to obtain
several hasty glimpses of the backs of the three houses in Sowell Street。
But neither from this view…point did he gather any fact of interest。 In one
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of the three houses in Sowell Street iron bars were fastened across the
windows of the fourth floor； but in private sanatoriums this was neither
unusual nor suspicious。 The bars might cover the windows of a nursery to
prevent children from falling out； or the room of some timid householder
with a lively fear of burglars。
In a quarter of an hour Ford was again back in Sowell Street no wiser
than when he had entered it。 From the outside； at least； the three houses
under suspicion gave no sign。 In the problem before him there was one
point that Ford found difficult to explain。 It was the only one that caused
him to question if the letter was genuine。 What puzzled him was this： Why；
if the girl were free to throw two notes from the window； did she not throw
them out by the dozen？ If she were able to reach a window； opening on the
street； why did she not call for help？ Why did she not； by hurling out
every small article the room contained； by screams； by breaking the
window…panes； attract a crowd； and； through it； the police？ That she had
not done so seemed to show that only at rare intervals was she free from
restraint； or at liberty to enter the front room that opened on the street。
Would it be equally difficult； Ford asked himself； for one in the street to
communicate with her？ What signal could he give that would draw an
answering signal from the girl？
Standing at the corner； hidden by the pillars of a portico； the water
dripping from his rain…coat； Ford gazed long and anxiously at the blank
windows of the three houses。 Like blind eyes staring into his； they told no
tales； betrayed no secret。 Around him the commonplace life of the
neighborhood proceeded undisturbed。 Somewhere concealed in the single
row of houses a girl was imprisoned； her life threatened； perhaps even at
that moment she was facing her death。 While； on either side； shut from her
by the thickness only of a brick wall； people were talking； reading； making
tea； preparing the evening meal； or； in the street below； hurrying by； intent
on trivial errands。 Hansom cabs； prowling in search of a fare； passed
through the street where a woman was being robbed of a fortune； the
drivers occupied only with thoughts of a possible shilling； a housemaid
with a jug in her hand and a shawl over her bare head； hastened to the
near…by public… house； the postman made his rounds； and delivered comic
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postal…cards； a policeman； shedding water from his shining cape； halted；
gazed severely at the sky； and； unconscious of the crime that was going
forward within the sound of his own footsteps； continued stolidly into
Wimpole Street。
A hundred plans raced through Ford's brain； he would arouse the street
with a false alarm of fire and lead the firemen； with the tale of a smoking
chimney； to one of the three houses； he would feign illness； and； taking
refuge in one of them； at night would explore the premises； he would
impersonate a detective； and insist upon his right to search for stolen
property。 As he rejected these and a dozen schemes as fantastic； his brain
and eyes were still alert for any chance advantage that the street might
offer。 But the minutes passed into an hour； and no one had entered any of
the three houses； no one had left them。 In the lower stories； from behind
the edges of the blinds； lights appeared； but of the life within there was no
sign。 Until he hit upon a plan of action； Ford felt there was no longer
anything to be gained by remaining in Sowell Street。 Already the answer
to his cable might have arrived at his rooms； at Gerridge's he might still
learn something of Pearsall。 He decided to revisit both these places； and；
while so engaged； to send from his office one of his assistants to cover the
Sowell Street houses。 He cast a last； reluctant look at the closed blinds；
and moved away。 As he did so； two itinerant musicians dragging behind
them a small street piano on wheels turned the corner； and； as the rain had
now ceased； one of them pulled the oil…cloth covering from the instrument
and； seating himself on a camp… stool at the curb； opened the piano。 After a
discouraged glance at the darkened windows； the other； in a hoarse；
strident tenor； to the accompaniment of the piano； began to sing。 The voice
of the man was raucous； penetrating。 It would have reached the recesses of
a tomb。
〃She sells sea…shells on the sea…shore；〃 the vocalist wailed。 〃The shells
she sells are sea…shells； I'm sure。〃
The effect was instantaneous。 A window was flung open； and an
indignant householder with one hand frantically waved the musicians
away； and with the other threw them a copper coin。
At the same moment Ford walked quickly to the piano and laid a half…