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Williams, Valentine, 1883-1946

"Okewood of the Secret Service"

.. hullo, who's this?"
The door leading from the bar to the tap-room was thrust open.
Gordon put his head in.
"I left Bates on guard outside, sir," he said in answer to an
interrogatory glance from Matthews, "I've been all over the
ground floor and there's not a soul here..."
He checked himself suddenly.
"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, his eyes on the figure
crouching in the corner, "you don't mean to say you've got her? A
pretty dance she led Dug and myself! Well, sir, it looks to me
like a good night's work!".
Matthews smiled a self-satisfied smile.
"I fancy the Chief will be pleased," he said, "though the rest of
'em seem to have given us the slip. Gordon, you might take a look
upstairs--that door in the corner leads to the upper rooms, I
fancy whilst I'm telephoning to Mr. Okewood. He must know about
this without delay. You, Harrison, keep an eye on the girl!"
He went through the door leading into the bar, and they heard him
speaking on the telephone which hung on the wall behind the
counter. He returned presently with a white tablecloth which he
threw over the prostrate figure on the floor.
Then he turned to the dancer.
"Stand up," he said sternly, "I want to speak to you."
Nur-el-Din cast a frightened glance over her shoulder at the
floor beside the table where Rass lay.


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