Part 26 (2/2)
”But if there _is_ no next time? We're not apt to meet again, you know.”
”That's something beyond your knowledge--”
”You think so? ... But shan't we resume our stroll? People might notice us standing here--you with your teeth bared like an ill-tempered dog.... Oh, thank you!”
And as they moved on, Lanyard continued: ”Shall I explain why we're not apt to meet again?”
”If it amuses you.”
”Thanks once more! ... For the simple reason that Paris satisfies me; so here I stop.”
”Well?” the spy asked with a blank sidelong look.
”Whereas you are leaving Paris tonight.”
”What makes you think that?”
”Because you value your thick hide too highly to remain, my dear captain.” Having gained the corner of the boulevard St. Denis, Lanyard pulled up. ”One moment, by your leave. You see yonder the entrance to the Metro--don't you? And here, a dozen feet away, a perfectly able-bodied sergent de ville? Let this fateful conjunction impress you properly: for five minutes after you have descended to the Metro--or as soon as the noise of a train advises me you've had one chance to get away--I shall mention casually to the sergo--that I have seen Captain Ek--”
”Hus.h.!.+” the German protested in a hiss of fright.
”But certainly: I've no desire to embarra.s.s you: publicity must be terribly distasteful to one of your sensitive and retiring disposition.... But I trust you understand me? On the one hand, there's the Metro; on the other, there's the flic; while here, you must admit, am I, as large as life and very much on the job! ... And inasmuch as I shall certainly mention my suspicions to the minion of the law--as aforesaid--I'd advise you to be well out of Paris before dawn!”
There was murder in the eyes of the spy as he lingered, truculently glowering at the smiling adventurer; and for an instant Lanyard was well-persuaded he had gone too far, that even there, even on that busy junction of two crowded thoroughfares, Ekstrom would let his temper get the better of his judgment and risk everything in an attempt upon the life of his despoiler.
But he was mistaken.
With a surly shrug the spy swung about and marched straight to the kiosk of the underground railway, into which, without one backward glance, he disappeared.
Two minutes later the earth beneath Lanyard's feet quaked with the crash and rumble of a north-bound train.
He waited three minutes longer; but Ekstrom didn't reappear; and at length convinced that his warning had proved effectual, Lanyard turned and made off.
XVI
RESt.i.tUTION
For all that success had rewarded his effrontery, Lanyard's mind was far from easy during the subsequent hour that he spent before attempting to rejoin Lucy Shannon, dodging, ducking and doubling across Paris and back again, with design to confuse and confound any jackals of the Pack that might have picked up his trail as advent.i.tiously as Ekstrom had.
His delight, indeed, in discomfiting his dupe was chilled by apprehension that it were madness, simply because the spy had proved unexpectedly docile, to consider the affaire Ekstrom closed. In the very fact of that docility inhered something strange and ominous, a premonition of evil which was hardly mitigated by finding the girl safe and sound under the wing of madame la concierge, in the little court of private stables, where he rented s.p.a.ce for his car, off the rue des Acacias.
Monsieur le concierge, it appeared, was from home; and madame, thick-witted, warm-hearted, simple body that she was, discovered a phase of beaming incuriosity most grateful to the adventurer, enabling him as it did to dispense with embarra.s.sing explanations, and to whisk the girl away as soon as he liked.
This last was just as soon as personal examination had rea.s.sured him with respect to his automobile--superficially an ordinary motor-cab of the better grade, but with an exceptionally powerful engine hidden beneath its hood. A car of such character, pa.s.sing readily as the town-car of any family in modest circ.u.mstances, or else as what Paris calls a voiture de remise (a hackney car without taximeter) was a tremendous convenience, enabling its owner to scurry at will about cab-ridden Paris free of comment. But it could not be left standing in public places at odd hours, or for long, without attracting the interest of the police, and so was useless in the present emergency.
Lanyard, however, entertained a shrewd suspicion that his plans might all miscarry and the command of a fast-travelling car soon prove essential to his salvation; and he cheerfully devoted a good half-hour to putting the motor in prime trim for the road.
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