Even as he did so a big open car slowed down throbbing outside
the porch. A man sprang out and advanced into the light streaming
from the front door into the eddying mist. It was Mortimer.
"Fortune," thought Desmond, "has broken her rule. She has given
me a second chance! "
"Well met, Bellward!" cried Mortimer, blinking at the other
through his thick glasses. "Tut, tut! What a night! You were
never going out, I swear."
Already Desmond had decided in his mind the course of action he
would pursue. For the moment he must let the party at the Dyke
Inn slide in favor of the bigger catch. He must slip away later
and have another try at the telephone and if it were still out of
order, he must endeavor to overpower Mortimer and then go for
assistance himself. On a night like this it was useless to think
of employing a half-blind old dolt like Martha to take a message.
As for the odd man, he lived at Wakefield, and went away at dusk
every evening.
So Desmond muttered some plausible lie about wanting to have a
look at the weather and cordially invited Mortimer in.
"You will stay for dinner" he said.
"Gladly," replied the other, sinking with aunt into the settee.
"And I should be glad if we might dine early."
Desmond raised his eyebrows.
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