This time, at least, he would not
fail, he told himself. Before he went to bed that night
Nur-el-Din, her maid, Rass, and if needs be, Strangwise (who
needed a lesson to teach him discretion), should be in custody.
Still no reply.
"Hullo! Hullo!" cried Desmond, depressing the hook repeatedly.
"Hullo, Exchange!"
But there was no answer. Then it struck Desmond that the line was
dead: his ear detected none of that busy whirr which is heard in
the telephone when one is waiting to get a number.
He spent five minutes in vain attempts to obtain a reply, then
abandoned the endeavor in disgust.
"I shall have to take the motor-bike and go over to Stunning," he
said to himself, "how I shall find my way there in this fog, the
Lord only knows! And I don't know whom to apply to when I get
there. The police-station, I suppose!"
He unlocked the door and rang for Martha.
"I have to go over to Stunning, Martha," he said, "I will try and
be back for dinner at eight!"
He had no intention of accompanying the party to the Dyke Inn. He
must preserve his incognito until Mortimer, the main quarry, had
been run down.
He filled his case from the box of cigarettes on the table and
thrust a box of matches into his pocket to light his head-lamp.
Then, taking a cap from the hat-stand, he opened the front door.
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