"You see, I've lost the
address!"
"Quayte!" returned Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe. "Ay can't say ay know the
name!" she added.
However, she consented to consult the handmaiden, who answered to
the name of Gladays, as to Mrs. Malplaquet's address, but she was
as ignorant as her mistress.
Promising to return in the course of the evening with his things
and having received exact instructions as to the shortest way to
Holland Park Avenue, Desmond took his leave. He felt that he had
embarked on a wild goose chase; for, even if the fugitives had
made their way to Mrs. Malplaquet's (which was more than
doubtful) he imagined they would take care to lie very low so
that his chances of coming across any of them were of the most
meager.
Following the directions he had received, he made his way easily
back to the main road. He halted under a street-lamp to catch the
eye of any passing taxi which might happen to be disengaged. A
dirty faced man in a greasy old suit and a spotted handkerchief
knotted about his throat came slouching along the pavement,
keeping close to the wall. On catching sight of Desmond's face by
the light of the lamp, he stopped irresolutely and then advanced
slowly towards him.
"Excuse me, sir!" he said falteringly.
Desmond looked round at the sound of the man's voice and seeing a
typical street loafer, asked the fellow to get him a taxi.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323