|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 64
"I am!" Stokes spoke angrily. "While you kept me talking, she
slipped out through that study, and down into the street."
"Ah," murmured Nicol Brinn.
"In fact, the whole business looks very suspicious to me,"
continued the detective.
"Sorry," drawled Brinn, again consulting his watch. "The five
minutes are up. I must be off."
"Not until I have spoken to Scotland Yard, sir."
"You wish to speak to Scotland Yard?"
"I do," said Stokes, grimly.
Nicol Brinn strode to the telephone, which stood upon a small
table almost immediately in front of the bookcase. The masked
door remained ajar.
"You are quite fixed upon detaining me?"
"Quite," said Stokes, watching him closely.
In one long stride Brinn was through the doorway, telephone in
hand! Before Stokes had time to move, the door closed violently,
in order, no doubt, to make it shut over the telephone cable
which lay under it!
Detective Sergeant Stokes fell back, gazed wildly at the false
books for a moment, and then, turning, leaped to the outer door.
It was locked!
In the meanwhile, Nicol Brinn, having secured the door which
communicated with the study, walked out into the lobby where
Hoskins was seated. Hoskins stood up.
"The lady went, Hoskins?"
"She did, sir."
Nicol Brinn withdrew the key from the door of the room in which
Detective Sergeant Stokes was confined. Stokes began banging
wildly upon the panels from within.
"That row will continue," Nicol Brinn said, coldly; "perhaps he
will shout murder from one of the windows. You have only to say
you had no key. I am going out now. The light coat, Hoskins."
Hoskins unemotionally handed coat, hat, and cane to his master
and, opening the front door, stood aside. The sound of a window
being raised became audible from within the locked room.
"Probably," added Nicol Brinn, "you will be arrested."
"Very good, sir," said Hoskins. "Good-night, sir..."
CHAPTER XVII. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY
Some two hours after Paul Harley's examination of Jones, the
ex-parlourmaid, a shabby street hawker appeared in the Strand,
bearing a tray containing copies of "Old Moore's Almanac." He was
an ugly-looking fellow with a split lip, and appeared to have
neglected to shave for at least a week. Nobody appeared to be
particularly interested, and during his slow progression from
Wellington Street to the Savoy Hotel he smoked cigarettes almost
continuously. Trade was far from brisk, and the vendor of
prophecies filled in his spare time by opening car doors, for
which menial service he collected one three-penny bit and several
sixpences.
This commercial optimist was still haunting the courtyard of the
hotel at a time when a very handsome limousine pulled up beside
the curb and a sprucely attired Hindu stepped out. One who had
been in the apartments of Ormuz Khan must have recognized his
excellency's private secretary. Turning to the chauffeur, a
half-caste of some kind, and ignoring the presence of the prophet
who had generously opened the door, "You will return at eight
o'clock," he said, speaking perfect and cultured English, "to
take his excellency to High Claybury. Make a note, now, as I
shall be very busy, reminding me to call at Lower Claybury
station for a parcel which will be awaiting me there."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|