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The reasons given by Boulton for being unable to proceed to the side of his friend and partner in Glasgow, shed clear light upon the condition of affairs at Soho. Their London agent, like Watt, was also to be married and would be absent. Fothergill had to proceed to London. Scale, one of the managers, was absent. Important visitors were constantly arriving.
Then a curtain of darkness descended. At about five o'clock that afternoon Inspector Bristol, who had spent several hours in Soho upon the scene of the murder of the Greek, was walking along Fleet Street, bound for the offices of the Report. As he passed the court, on the corner of which stands a branch of the London County and Provincial Bank, his eye was attracted by a curious phenomenon.
The Circus, with its mob of prostitutes, came into view; the "Criterion" bar, with its loafers standing outside. William leaned a little forward, and Esther was sure he was thinking that he would never go into that bar again. The cab turned to the left, and Esther said that it would cross Soho, perhaps pass down Old Compton Street, opposite their old house.
"I'll call to-morrow, and get a considered opinion upon my Soho house of entertainment," I remarked, as the Colonel opened his door, and paused at the entrance to bid us a final good night. "Glad to see you," he replied, as he grasped my hand and shook it warmly. "But of one thing you may rest assured.
"Well!" said that good-natured emissary, after a full half-hour of bootless attempts to bring him round to the question. "I have been to Soho." "To Soho?" repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. "Oh, to be sure! What am I thinking of!" "And I have no doubt," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was right in the conversation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my advice." "I assure you," returned Mr.
"My dear Quinny," he wrote, "I'm writing this in Soho with a pen that was made in hell." Then there was a splutter of ink. "There," the letter went on, "that's the sort of thing it does. I believe this pen was brought to Soho by the first Frenchman to open a café here, and it's been handed down from proprietor to proprietor ever since.
Some uv these nurses, they've tender 'earts, bless 'em, and when I was in the 'awspital " But she turned her head and hurried on, and the voice was lost in the empty air. As she dipped into the slums of Westminster the sun gleamed on her wet face, and a group of noisy, happy girls, going to their work in the jam factories of Soho, came toward her laughing.
However, this Humour creates him no Enemies, for he does nothing with Sourness or Obstinacy; and his being unconfined to Modes and Forms, makes him but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town he lives in Soho Square: It is said, he keeps himself a Batchelour by reason he was crossed in Love by a perverse beautiful Widow of the next County to him.
"He came well disguised," the woman answered. "It was thought to be safe. Nevertheless, it was a foolish thing. They have tracked him down from hotel to apartments, till he lives now in the back room of a wretched little cafe in Soho. Even from there we cannot get him away the whole district is watched by spies. We need help."
I remember the searchlight from the military encampment, playing constantly over the Arno and the roofs the eye of Mars that, here in Europe, never closes. And always the flowers nodding above me, stooping now and then to brush my face. I came to think that at the end Paradise, and not a second-rate hotel, was waiting. One may still take that ride, I fancy. Some day some day I dined in Soho.
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