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Page 31
"Well, that's Earl Dexter, the first crook in America! Ssh! Only
goes in on very big things. We had word at the Yard he was in town;
but we can't touch him--we can only keep our eyes on him. He
usually travels openly and in his own name, but this time he seems
to have slipped over quietly. He always dresses the same and has
just given me 'good day!' They call him The Stetson Man. We heard
this morning that he had booked two first-class sailings in the
Oceanic, leaving for New York three weeks hence. Now, Mr. Cavanagh,
what is his game?"
"It has occurred to me before, Bristol," I replied, "and you may
remember that I mentioned the idea to you, that there might be a
third party interested in the slipper. Why shouldn't Earl Dexter
be that third party?"
"Because he isn't a fool," rapped Bristol shortly. "Earl Dexter
isn't a man to gather up trouble for himself. More likely if his
visit has anything really to do with the slipper he's retained by
Hassan and Company. Museum-breaking may be a bit out of the line
of Hashishin!"
This latter suggestion dovetailed with my own ideas, and oddly
enough there was something positively wholesome in the notion of
the straightforward crookedness of a mere swell cracksman.
Then happened a singular thing, and one that effectually concluded
our whispered colloquy. From the top end of the room, beyond the
case containing the slipper, one of the yellow blinds came down
with a run.
Bristol turned in a flash. It was not a remarkable accident, and
might portend no more than a loose cord; but when, having walked
rapidly up the room, we stood before the lowered blind, it
appeared that this was no accident at all.
Some four feet from the bottom of the blind (or five feet from the
floor) a piece of linen a foot square had been neatly slashed out!
I glanced around the room. Several fashionably dressed visitors
were looking idly in our direction, but I could fasten upon no one
of them as a likely perpetrator.
Bristol stared at me in perplexity.
"Who on earth did it," he muttered, "and what the blazes for?"
CHAPTER XII
THE HASHISHIN WATCH
"The American gentleman has just gone out, sir," said the sergeant
at the door.
I nodded grimly and raced down the steps. Despite my half-formed
desire that the slipper should be recovered by those to whom
properly it belonged, I experienced at times a curious interest in
its welfare. I cannot explain this. Across the hall in front of
me I saw Earl Dexter passing out of the Museum. I followed him
through into Kingsway and thence to Fleet Street. He sauntered
easily along, a nonchalant gray figure. I had begun to think that
he was bound for his hotel and that I was wasting my time when he
turned sharply into quiet Salisbury Square; it was almost deserted.
My heart leapt into my mouth with a presentiment of what was coming
as I saw an elegant and beautifully dressed woman sauntering along
in front of us on the far side.
Was it that I detected something familiar in her carriage, in the
poise of her head--something that reminded me of former
unforgettable encounters; encounters which without exception had
presaged attempts upon the slipper of the Prophet? Or was it that
I recollected how Dexter had booked two passages to America? I
cannot say, but I felt my heart leap; I knew beyond any possibility
of doubt that this meeting in Salisbury Square marked the opening
of a new chapter in the history of the slipper.
Dexter slipped his arm within that of the girl in front of him and
they paced slowly forward in earnest conversation. I suppose my
action was very amateurish and very poor detective work; but
regardless of discovery I crossed the road and passed close by
the pair.
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