|
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 65
"Yes, sir," replied the chauffeur, and he touched his cap as the
Hindu walked into the hotel.
The salesman reclosed the door of the car, and spat reflectively
upon the pavement.
Limping wearily, he worked his way along in the direction of
Chancery Lane. But, before reaching Chancery Lane, he plunged
into a maze of courts with which he was evidently well
acquainted. His bookselling enterprise presently terminated, as
it had commenced, at The Chancery Agency.
Once more safe in his dressing room, the pedler rapidly
transformed himself into Paul Harley, and Paul Harley, laying his
watch upon the table before him, lighted his pipe and indulged in
half an hour's close thinking.
His again electing to focus his attention upon Ormuz Khan was
this time beyond reproach. It was the course which logic
dictated. Until he had attempted the task earlier in the day, he
could not have supposed it so difficult to trace the country
address of a well-known figure like that of the Persian.
This address he had determined to learn, and, having learned it,
was also determined to inspect the premises. But for such a
stroke of good luck as that which had befallen him at the Savoy,
he could scarcely have hoped. His course now lay clearly before
him. And presently, laying his pipe aside, he took up a telephone
which stood upon the dressing table and rang up a garage with
which he had an account.
"Hello, is that you, Mason?" he said. "Have the racer to meet me
at seven o'clock, half-way along Pall Mall."
Never for a moment did he relax his vigilance. Observing every
precaution when he left The Chancery Agency, he spent the
intervening time at one of his clubs, from which, having made an
early dinner, he set off for Pall Mall at ten minutes to seven. A
rakish-looking gray car resembling a giant torpedo was
approaching slowly from the direction of Buckingham Palace. The
driver pulled up as Paul Harley stepped into the road, and
following a brief conversation Harley set out westward,
performing a detour before heading south for Lower Claybury, a
little town with which he was only slightly acquainted. No
evidence of espionage could he detect, but the note of danger
spoke intimately to his inner consciousness; so that when, the
metropolis left behind, he found himself in the hilly Surrey
countryside, more than once he pulled up, sitting silent for a
while and listening intently. He failed, always, to detect any
sign of pursuit.
The night was tropically brilliant, hot, and still, but saving
the distant murmur of the city, and ordinary comings and goings
along the country roads, there was nothing to account for a
growing anxiety of which he became conscious.
He was in gunshot of Old Claybury church tower, when the sight of
a haystack immediately inside a meadow gate suggested a likely
hiding place for the racer; and, having run the car under cover,
Harley proceeded on foot to the little railway station. He
approached a porter who leaned in the doorway. "Could you direct
me to the house of his excellency Ormuz Khan?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir," was the reply. "If you follow the uphill road on the
other side of the station until you come to the Manor Park--you
will see the gates--and then branch off to the right, taking the
road facing the gates. Hillside--that's the name of the house--is
about a quarter of a mile along."
Dusk was beginning to fall and, although the nature of his
proposed operations demanded secrecy, he recognized that every
hour was precious. Accordingly he walked immediately back to the
spot at which he had left the car and, following the porter's
directions, drove over the line at the level crossing immediately
beyond the station, and proceeded up a tree-lined road until he
found himself skirting the railing of an extensive tract of park
land.
Presently heavy gates appeared in view; and then, to the right,
another lane in which the growing dusk had painted many shadows.
He determined to drive on until he should find a suitable hiding
place. And at a spot, as he presently learned, not a hundred
yards from Hillside, he discovered an opening in the hedge which
divided the road from a tilled field. Into this, without
hesitation, he turned the racer, backing in, in order that he
might be ready for a flying start in case of emergency. Once more
he set out on foot.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|