"If you
consider how much creasote is carted about London in one day, it
is no great wonder that our trail should have been crossed. It
is much used now, especially for the seasoning of wood. Poor
Toby is not to blame."
"We must get on the main scent again, I suppose."
"Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently
what puzzled the dog at the corner of Knight's Place was that
there were two different trails running in opposite directions.
We took the wrong one. It only remains to follow the other."
There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to the place
where he had committed his fault, he cast about in a wide circle
and finally dashed off in a fresh direction.
"We must take care that he does not now bring us to the place
where the creasote-barrel came from," I observed.
"I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on the
pavement, whereas the barrel passed down the roadway. No, we are
on the true scent now."
It tended down towards the river-side, running through Belmont
Place and Prince's Street. At the end of Broad Street it ran
right down to the water's edge, where there was a small wooden
wharf. Toby led us to the very edge of this, and there stood
whining, looking out on the dark current beyond.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111