Desmond had not the faintest idea
of their whereabouts or ultimate destination. He was fairly
embarked on the great adventure now, and he was philosophically
content to let Fate have its way with him. He found himself
wondering rather indolently what the future had in store.
The car slowed down and the chauffeur switched the headlights on.
Their blinding glare revealed some white gate-posts at the
entrance of a quiet country station. Desmond looked at his watch.
It was half-past one. The car stopped at the entrance to the
booking-office where a man in an overcoat and bowler was waiting.
"This way, Major, please," said the man in the bowler, and led
the way into the dark and silent station. At the platform a short
train consisting of an engine, a Pullman car and a brakesman's
van stood, the engine under steam. By the glare from the furnace
Desmond recognized his companion. It was Matthews, the Chief's
confidential clerk.
Matthews held open the door of the Pullman for Desmond and
followed him into the carriage. A gruff voice in the night
shouted:
"All right, Charley!" a light was waved to and fro, and the
special pulled out of the echoing station into the darkness
beyond.
In the corner of, the Pullman a table was laid for supper.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116