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Updated: May 8, 2025
"You have planned it all very neatly, whether they are the right men or not," said Jones; "but if the affair were in my hands I should have had a body of police in Jacobson's Yard, and arrested them when they came down." "Which would have been never. This man Small is a pretty shrewd fellow. He would send a scout on ahead, and if anything made him suspicious lie snug for another week."
The small change was made, we stepped on board, and the ropes were cast off. Jones, Holmes, and I sat in the stern. There was one man at the rudder, one to tend the engines, and two burly police-inspectors forward. "Where to?" asked Jones. "To the Tower. Tell them to stop opposite Jacobson's Yard." Our craft was evidently a very fast one.
I drew blank at fifteen, but at the sixteenth Jacobson's I learned that the Aurora had been handed over to them two days ago by a wooden-legged man, with some trivial directions as to her rudder. 'There ain't naught amiss with her rudder, said the foreman. 'There she lies, with the red streaks. At that moment who should come down but Mordecai Smith, the missing owner?
He gave them M. Jacobson's address, and told them to report at the Hotel du Louvre, where he would wait for them. Having dismissed his friends, Raoul went to find out something about M. Jacobson; and, being an expert at the business of unravelling plots and snares, he determined to discover who was at the bottom of this duel into which he had been decoyed.
While this conversation had been proceeding, we had been shooting the long series of bridges which span the Thames. As we passed the City the last rays of the sun were gilding the cross upon the summit of St. Paul's. It was twilight before we reached the Tower. "That is Jacobson's Yard," said Holmes, pointing to a bristle of masts and rigging on the Surrey side.
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