Sylvia and Harrington
Taximan Tomkins was a wizened-looking man with a surly manner and the air of having a constant grievance, but he was evidently overawed by the situation in which he found himself, and seemed anxious to do his best to answer the Inspector’s questions clearly.
He remembered the evening in question. He had been hailed by a gentleman near Liverpool Street, and told to drive to the Curtis Street Girls’ Club. There, after some delay, they had picked up a young lady.
“What address did you get?” French asked.
“I don’t just remember,” the man said slowly scratching his head. “Somewhere in Hampstead it was, but I’m blest if I could tell you where.”
“The Cedars, Hampstead, perhaps?”
“That’s right guv’nor. That was it.”
“And the two started off together?”
“Yes, the other
