the 4.15 from victoria to lewes had been held up at three bridgesin consequence of a derailment and, though john lexman wasfortunate enough to catch a belated connection to beston tracey,the wagonette which was the sole communication between the villageand the outside world had gone.
"if you can wait half an hour, mr. lexman," said thestation-master, "i will telephone up to the village and get briggsto come down for you."john lexman looked out upon the dripping landscape and shruggedhis shoulders.
"i'll walk," he said shortly and, leaving his bag in thestation-master's care and buttoning his mackintosh to his chin, hestepped forth resolutely into the rain to negotiate the two mileswhich separated the tiny railway station from little tracey.
the downpour was incessant and likely to last through the night.
the high hedges on either side of the narrow road were so manyleafy cascades; the road itself was in places ankle deep in mud.
he stopped under the protecting cover of a big tree to fill andlight his pipe and with its bowl turned downwards continued hiswalk. but for the driving rain which searched every crevice andfound every chink in his waterproof armor, he preferred, indeedwelcomed, the walk.
the road from beston tracey to little beston was associated in hismind with some of the finest situations in his novels. it was onthis road that he had conceived "the tilbury mystery." between thestation and the house he had woven the plot which had made"gregory standish" the most popular detective story of the year.
for john lexman was a maker of cunning plots.
if, in the literary world, he was regarded by superior persons asa writer of "shockers," he had a large and increasing public whowere fascinated by the wholesome and thrilling stories he wrote,and who held on breathlessly to the skein of mystery until theycame to the denouement he had planned.
but no thought of books, or plots, or stories filled his troubledmind as he strode along the deserted road to little beston. hehad had two interviews in london, one of which under ordinarycircumstances would have filled him with joy: he had seen t. x.
and "t. x." was t. x. meredith, who would one day be chief of thecriminal investigation department and was now an assistantcommissioner of police, engaged in the more delicate work of thatdepartment.
in his erratic, tempestuous way, t. x. had suggested the greatestidea for a plot that any author could desire. but it was not oft. x. that john lexman thought as he breasted the hill, on theslope of which was the tiny habitation known by the somewhatmagnificent title of beston priory.
it was the interview he had had with the greek on the previous daywhich filled his mind, and he frowned as he recalled it. heopened the little wicket gate and went through the plantation tothe house, doing his best to shake off the recollection of theremarkable and unedifying discussion he had had with themoneylender.
beston priory was little more than a cottage, though one of itswalls was an indubitable relic of that establishment which a pioushoward had erected in the thirteenth century. a small andunpretentious building, built in the elizabethan style with quaintgables and high chimneys, its latticed windows and sunken gardens,its rosary and its tiny meadow, gave it a certain manorialcompleteness which was a source of great pride to its owner.
he passed under the thatched porch, and stood for a moment in thebroad hallway as he stripped his drenching mackintosh.
the hall was in darkness. grace would probably be changing fordinner, and he decided that in his present mood he would notdisturb her. he passed through the long passage which led to thebig study at the back of the house. a fire burnt redly in theold-fashioned grate and the snug comfort of the room brought asense of ease and re-lief. he changed his shoes, and lit thetable lamp.
the room was obviously a man's den. the leather-covered chairs,the big and well-filled bookcase which covered one wall of theroom, the huge, solid-oak writing-desk, covered with books andhalf-finished manuscripts, spoke unmistakably of its owner'soccupation.
after he had changed his shoes, he refilled his pipe, walked overto the fire, and stood looking down into its glowing heart.
he was a man a little above medium height, slimly built, with abreadth of shoulder which was suggestive of the athlete. he hadindeed rowed 4 in his boat, and had fought his way into thesemi-finals of the amateur boxing championship of england. hisface was strong, lean, yet well-moulded. his eyes were grey anddeep, his eyebrows straight and a little forbidding. theclean-shaven mouth was big and generous, and the healthy tan ofhis cheek told of a life lived in the open air.
there was nothing of the recluse or the student in his appearance.
he was in fact a typical, healthy-looking britisher, very muchlike any other man of his class whom one would meet in themess-room of the british army, in the wardrooms of the fleet, orin the far-off posts of the empire, where the administrative cogsof the great machine are to be seen at work.
there was a little tap at the door, and before he could say "comein" it was pushed open and grace lexman entered.
if you described her as brave and sweet you might secure from thatbrief description both her manner and her charm. he half crossedthe room to meet her, and kissed her tenderly.
"i didn't know you were back until - " she said; linking her armin his.
"until you saw the horrible mess my mackintosh has made," hesmiled. "i know your methods, watson!"she laughed, but became serious again.
"i am very glad you've come back. we have a visitor," she said.
he raised his eyebrows.
"a visitor? whoever came down on a day like this?"she looked at him a little strangely.
"mr. kara," she said.
"kara? how long has he been here?""he came at four."there was nothing enthusiastic in her tone.
"i can't understand why you don't like old kara," rallied herhusband.
"there are very many reasons," she replied, a little curtly forher.
"anyway," said john lexman, after a moment's thought, "his arrivalis rather opportune. where is he?""he is in the drawing-room."the priory drawing-room was a low-ceilinged, rambling apartment,"all old print and chrysanthemums," to use lexman's description.
cosy armchairs, a grand piano, an almost medieval open grate,faced with dull-green tiles, a well-worn but cheerful carpet andtwo big silver candelabras were the principal features whichattracted the newcomer.
there was in this room a harmony, a quiet order and a soothingquality which made it a haven of rest to a literary man withjagged nerves. two big bronze bowls were filled with earlyviolets, another blazed like a pale sun with primroses, and theearly woodland flowers filled the room with a faint fragrance.
a man rose to his feet, as john lexman entered and crossed theroom with an easy carriage. he was a man possessed of singularbeauty of face and of figure. half a head taller than the author,he carried himself with such a grace as to conceal his height.
"i missed you in town," he said, "so i thought i'd run down on theoff chance of seeing you."he spoke in the well-modulated tone of one who had had a longacquaintance with the public schools and universities of england.
there was no trace of any foreign accent, yet remington kara was agreek and had been born and partly educated in the more turbulentarea of albania.
the two men shook hands warmly.
"you'll stay to dinner?"kara glanced round with a smile at grace lexman. she satuncomfortably upright, her hands loosely folded on her lap, herface devoid of encouragement.
"if mrs. lexman doesn't object," said the greek.
"i should be pleased, if you would," she said, almostmechanically; "it is a horrid night and you won't get anythingworth eating this side of london and i doubt very much," shesmiled a little, "if the meal i can give you will be worthy ofthat description.""what you can give me will be more than sufficient," he said, witha little bow, and turned to her husband.
in a few minutes they were deep in a discussion of books andplaces, and grace seized the opportunity to make her escape. frombooks in general to lexman's books in particular the conversationflowed.
"i've read every one of them, you know," said kara.
john made a little face. "poor devil," he said sardonically.
"on the contrary," said kara, "i am not to be pitied. there is agreat criminal lost in you, lexman.""thank you," said john.
"i am not being uncomplimentary, am i?" smiled the greek. "i ammerely referring to the ingenuity of your plots. sometimes yourbooks baffle and annoy me. if i cannot see the solution of yourmysteries before the book is half through, it angers me a little.
of course in the majority of cases i know the solution before ihave reached the fifth chapter."john looked at him in surprise and was somewhat piqued.
"i flatter myself it is impossible to tell how my stories will enduntil the last chapter," he said.
kara nodded.
"that would be so in the case of the average reader, but youforget that i am a student. i follow every little thread of theclue which you leave exposed.""you should meet t. x.," said john, with a laugh, as he rose fromhis chair to poke the fire.
"t. x.?""t. x. meredith. he is the most ingenious beggar you could meet.
we were at caius together, and he is by way of being a great palof mine. he is in the criminal investigation department."kara nodded. there was the light of interest in his eyes and hewould have pursued the discussion further, but at the momentdinner was announced.
it was not a particularly cheerful meal because grace did not asusual join in the conversation, and it was left to kara and to herhusband to supply the deficiencies. she was experiencing acurious sense of depression, a premonition of evil which she couldnot define. again and again in the course of the dinner she tookher mind back to the events of the day to discover the reason forher unease.
usually when she adopted this method she came upon the trivialcauses in which apprehension was born, but now she was puzzled tofind that a solution was denied her. her letters of the morninghad been pleasant, neither the house nor the servants had givenher any trouble. she was well herself, and though she knew johnhad a little money trouble, since his unfortunate speculation inroumanian gold shares, and she half suspected that he had had toborrow money to make good his losses, yet his prospects were soexcellent and the success of his last book so promising that she,probably seeing with a clearer vision the unimportance of thosemoney worries, was less concerned about the problem than he.
"you will have your coffee in the study, i suppose," said grace,"and i know you'll excuse me; i have to see mrs. chandler on themundane subject of laundry."she favoured kara with a little nod as she left the room andtouched john's shoulder lightly with her hand in passing.
kara's eyes followed her graceful figure until she was out ofview, then"i want to see you, kara," said john lexman, "if you will give mefive minutes.""you can have five hours, if you like," said the other, easily.
they went into the study together; the maid brought the coffee andliqueur, and placed them on a little table near the fire anddisappeared.
for a time the conversation was general. kara, who was a frankadmirer of the comfort of the room and who lamented his owninability to secure with money the cosiness which john hadobtained at little cost, went on a foraging expedition whilst hishost applied himself to a proof which needed correcting.
"i suppose it is impossible for you to have electric light here,"kara asked.
"quite," replied the other.
"why?""i rather like the light of this lamp.""it isn't the lamp," drawled the greek and made a little grimace;"i hate these candles."he waved his hand to the mantle-shelf where the six tall, white,waxen candles stood out from two wall sconces.
"why on earth do you hate candles?" asked the other in surprise.
kara made no reply for the moment, but shrugged his shoulders.
presently he spoke.
"if you were ever tied down to a chair and by the side of thatchair was a small keg of black powder and stuck in that powder wasa small candle that burnt lower and lower every minute - my god!"john was amazed to see the perspiration stand upon the forehead ofhis guest.
"that sounds thrilling," he said.
the greek wiped his forehead with a silk handkerchief and his handshook a little.
"it was something more than thrilling," he said.
"and when did this occur?" asked the author curiously.
"in albania," replied the other; "it was many years ago, but thedevils are always sending me reminders of the fact."he did not attempt to explain who the devils were or under whatcircumstances he was brought to this unhappy pass, but changed thesubject definitely.
sauntering round the cosy room he followed the bookshelf whichfilled one wall and stopped now and again to examine some title.
presently he drew forth a stout volume.
"'wild brazil'," he read, "by george gathercole - do you knowgathercole?"john was filling his pipe from a big blue jar on his desk andnodded.
"met him once - a taciturn devil. very short of speech and, likeall men who have seen and done things, less inclined to talk abouthimself than any man i know."kara looked at the book with a thoughtful pucker of brow andturned the leaves idly.
"i've never seen him," he said as he replaced the book, "yet, in asense, his new journey is on my behalf."the other man looked up.
"on your behalf?""yes - you know he has gone to patagonia for me. he believesthere is gold there - you will learn as much from his book on themountain systems of south america. i was interested in histheories and corresponded with him. as a result of thatcorrespondence he undertook to make a geological survey for me. isent him money for his expenses, and he went off.""you never saw him?" asked john lexman, surprised.
kara shook his head.
"that was not - ?" began his host.
"not like me, you were going to say. frankly, it was not, butthen i realized that he was an unusual kind of man. i invited himto dine with me before he left london, and in reply received awire from southampton intimating that he was already on his way."lexman nodded.
"it must be an awfully interesting kind of life," he said. "isuppose he will be away for quite a long time?""three years," said kara, continuing his examination of thebookshelf.
"i envy those fellows who run round the world writing books," saidjohn, puffing reflectively at his pipe. "they have all the bestof it."kara turned. he stood immediately behind the author and the othercould not see his face. there was, however, in his voice anunusual earnestness and an unusual quiet vehemence.
"what have you to complain about!" he asked, with that littledrawl of his. "you have your own creative work - the mostfascinating branch of labour that comes to a man. he, poorbeggar, is bound to actualities. you have the full range of allthe worlds which your imagination gives to you. you can createmen and destroy them, call into existence fascinating problems,mystify and baffle ten or twenty thousand people, and then, at aword, elucidate your mystery."john laughed.
"there is something in that," he said.
"as for the rest of your life," kara went on in a lower voice, "ithink you have that which makes life worth living - anincomparable wife."lexman swung round in his chair, and met the other's gaze, andthere was something in the set of the other's handsome face whichtook his. breath away.
"i do not see - " he began.
kara smiled.
"that was an impertinence, wasn't it!" he said, banteringly. "butthen you mustn't forget, my dear man, that i was very anxious tomarry your wife. i don't suppose it is secret. and when i losther, i had ideas about you which are not pleasant to recall."he had recovered his self-possession and had continued his aimlessstroll about the room.
"you must remember i am a greek, and the modern greek is nophilosopher. you must remember, too, that i am a petted child offortune, and have had everything i wanted since i was a baby.""you are a fortunate devil," said the other, turning back to hisdesk, and taking up his pen.
for a moment kara did not speak, then he made as though he wouldsay something, checked himself, and laughed.
"i wonder if i am," he said.
and now he spoke with a sudden energy.
"what is this trouble you are having with vassalaro?"john rose from his chair and walked over to the fire, stood gazingdown into its depths, his legs wide apart, his hands claspedbehind him, and kara took his attitude to supply an answer to thequestion.
"i warned you against vassalaro," he said, stooping by the other'sside to light his cigar with a spill of paper. "my dear lexman,my fellow countrymen are unpleasant people to deal with in certainmoods.""he was so obliging at first," said lexman, half to himself.
"and now he is so disobliging," drawled kara. "that is a waywhich moneylenders have, my dear man; you were very foolish to goto him at all. i could have lent you the money.""there were reasons why i should not borrow money from you,", saidjohn, quietly, "and i think you yourself have supplied theprincipal reason when you told me just now, what i already knew,that you wanted to marry grace.""how much is the amount?" asked kara, examining his well-manicuredfinger-nails.
"two thousand five hundred pounds," replied john, with a shortlaugh, "and i haven't two thousand five hundred shillings at thismoment.""will he wait?"john lexman shrugged his shoulders.
"look here, kara," he said, suddenly, "don't think i want toreproach you, but it was through you that i met vassalaro so thatyou know the kind of man he is."kara nodded.
"well, i can tell you he has been very unpleasant indeed," saidjohn, with a frown, "i had an interview with him yesterday inlondon and it is clear that he is going to make a lot of trouble.
i depended upon the success of my play in town giving me enough topay him off, and i very foolishly made a lot of promises ofrepayment which i have been unable to keep.""i see," said kara, and then, "does mrs. lexman know about thismatter?""a little," said the other.
he paced restlessly up and down the room, his hands behind him andhis chin upon his chest.
"naturally i have not told her the worst, or how beastlyunpleasant the man has been."he stopped and turned.
"do you know he threatened to kill me?" he asked.
kara smiled.
"i can tell you it was no laughing matter," said the other,angrily, "i nearly took the little whippersnapper by the scruff ofthe neck and kicked him."kara dropped his hand on the other's arm.
"i am not laughing at you," he said; "i am laughing at the thoughtof vassalaro threatening to kill anybody. he is the biggestcoward in the world. what on earth induced him to take thisdrastic step?""he said he is being hard pushed for money," said the other,moodily, "and it is possibly true. he was beside himself withanger and anxiety, otherwise i might have given the littleblackguard the thrashing he deserved."kara who had continued his stroll came down the room and halted infront of the fireplace looking at the young author with a paternalsmile.
"you don't understand vassalaro," he said; "i repeat he is thegreatest coward in the world. you will probably discover he isfull of firearms and threats of slaughter, but you have only toclick a revolver to see him collapse. have you a revolver, by theway?""oh, nonsense," said the other, roughly, "i cannot engage myselfin that kind of melodrama.""it is not nonsense," insisted the other, "when you are in rome,et cetera, and when you have to deal with a low-class greek youmust use methods which will at least impress him. if you thrashhim, he will never forgive you and will probably stick a knifeinto you or your wife. if you meet his melodrama with melodramaand at the psychological moment produce your revolver; you willsecure the effect you require. have you a revolver?"john went to his desk and, pulling open a drawer, took out a smallbrowning.
"that is the extent of my armory," he said, "it has never beenfired and was sent to me by an unknown admirer last christmas.""a curious christmas present," said the other, examining theweapon.
"i suppose the mistaken donor imagined from my books that i livedin a veritable museum of revolvers, sword sticks and noxiousdrugs," said lexman, recovering some of his good humour; "it wasaccompanied by a card.""do you know how it works?" asked the other.
"i have never troubled very much about it," replied lexman, "iknow that it is loaded by slipping back the cover, but as myadmirer did not send ammunition, i never even practised with it."there was a knock at the door.
"that is the post," explained john.
the maid had one letter on the salver and the author took it upwith a frown.
"from vassalaro," he said, when the girl had left the room.
the greek took the letter in his hand and examined it.
"he writes a vile fist," was his only comment as he handed it backto john.
he slit open the thin, buff envelope and took out half a dozensheets of yellow paper, only a single sheet of which was writtenupon. the letter was brief:
"i must see you to-night without fail," ran the scrawl; "meet meat the crossroads between beston tracey and the eastbourneroad. i shall be there at eleven o'clock, and, if you want topreserve your life, you had better bring me a substantialinstalment."it was signed "vassalaro."john read the letter aloud. "he must be mad to write a letterlike that," he said; "i'll meet the little devil and teach himsuch a lesson in politeness as he is never likely to forget."he handed the letter to the other and kara read it in silence.
"better take your revolver," he said as he handed it back.
john lexman looked at his watch.
"i have an hour yet, but it will take me the best part of twentyminutes to reach the eastbourne road.""will you see him?" asked kara, in a tone of surprise.
"certainly," lexman replied emphatically: "i cannot have himcoming up to the house and making a scene and that is certainlywhat the little beast will do.""will you pay him?" asked kara softly.
john made no answer. there was probably 10 pounds in the houseand a cheque which was due on the morrow would bring him another30 pounds. he looked at the letter again. it was written onpaper of an unusual texture. the surface was rough almost likeblotting paper and in some places the ink absorbed by the poroussurface had run. the blank sheets had evidently been inserted bya man in so violent a hurry that he had not noticed theextravagance.
"i shall keep this letter," said john.
"i think you are well advised. vassalaro probably does not knowthat he transgresses a law in writing threatening letters and thatshould be a very strong weapon in your hand in certaineventualities."there was a tiny safe in one corner of the study and this johnopened with a key which he took from his pocket. he pulled openone of the steel drawers, took out the papers which were in it andput in their place the letter, pushed the drawer to, and lockedit.
all the time kara was watching him intently as one who found morethan an ordinary amount of interest in the novelty of theprocedure.
he took his leave soon afterwards.
"i would like to come with you to your interesting meeting," hesaid, "but unfortunately i have business elsewhere. let me enjoinyou to take your revolver and at the first sign of anybloodthirsty intention on the part of my admirable compatriot,produce it and click it once or twice, you won't have to do more."grace rose from the piano as kara entered the little drawing-roomand murmured a few conventional expressions of regret that thevisitor's stay had been so short. that there was no sincerity inthat regret kara, for one, had no doubt. he was a man singularlyfree from illusions.
they stayed talking a little while.
"i will see if your chauffeur is asleep," said john, and went outof the room."there was a little silence after he had gone.
"i don't think you are very glad to see me," said kara. hisfrankness was a little embarrassing to the girl and she flushedslightly.
"i am always glad to see you, mr. kara, or any other of myhusband's friends," she said steadily.
he inclined his head.
"to be a friend of your husband is something," he said, and thenas if remembering something, "i wanted to take a book away with me- i wonder if your husband would mind my getting it?""i will find it for you.""don't let me bother you," he protested, "i know my way."without waiting for her permission he left the girl with theunpleasant feeling that he was taking rather much for granted. hewas gone less than a minute and returned with a book under hisarm.
"i have not asked lexman's permission to take it," he said, "but iam rather interested in the author. oh, here you are," he turnedto john who came in at that moment. "might i take this book onmexico?" he asked. "i will return it in the morning."they stood at the door, watching the tail light of the motordisappear down the drive; and returned in silence to the drawingroom.
"you look worried, dear," she said, laying her hand on hisshoulder.
he smiled faintly.
"is it the money" she asked anxiously.
for a moment he was tempted to tell her of the letter. he stifledthe temptation realizing that she would not consent to his goingout if she knew the truth.
"it is nothing very much," he said. "i have to go down to bestontracey to meet the last train. i am expecting some proofs down."he hated lying to her, and even an innocuous lie of this characterwas repugnant to him.
"i'm afraid you have had a dull evening," he said, "kara was notvery amusing."she looked at him thoughtfully.
"he has not changed very much," she said slowly.
"he's a wonderfully handsome chap, isn't he?" he asked in a toneof admiration. "i can't understand what you ever saw in a fellowlike me, when you had a man who was not only rich, but possiblythe best-looking man in the world."she shivered a little.
"i have seen a side of mr. kara that is not particularlybeautiful," she said. "oh, john, i am afraid of that man!"he looked at her in astonishment.
"afraid?" he asked. "good heavens, grace, what a thing to say!
why i believe he'd do anything for you.""that is exactly what i am afraid of," she said in a low voice.
she had a reason which she did not reveal. she had first metremington kara in salonika two years before. she had been doing atour through the balkans with her father - it was the last tourthe famous archeologist made - and had met the man who was fatedto have such an influence upon her life at a dinner given by theamerican consul.
many were the stories which were told about this greek with hisjove-like face, his handsome carriage and his limitless wealth.
it was said that his mother was an american lady who had beencaptured by albanian brigands and was sold to one of the albanianchiefs who fell in love with her, and for her sake became aprotestant. he had been educated at yale and at oxford, and wasknown to be the possessor of vast wealth, and was virtually kingof a hill district forty miles out of durazzo. here he reignedsupreme, occupying a beautiful house which he had built by anitalian architect, and the fittings and appointments of which hadbeen imported from the luxurious centres of the world.
in albania they called him "kara rumo," which meant "the blackroman," for no particular reason so far as any one could judge,for his skin was as fair as a saxon's, and his close-cropped curlswere almost golden.
he had fallen in love with grace terrell. at first his attentionshad amused her, and then there came a time when they frightenedher, for the man's fire and passion had been unmistakable. shehad made it plain to him that he could base no hopes upon herreturning his love, and, in a scene which she even now shudderedto recall, he had revealed something of his wild and recklessnature. on the following day she did not see him, but two dayslater, when returning through the bazaar from a dance which hadbeen given by the governor general, her carriage was stopped, shewas forcibly dragged from its interior, and her cries were stifledwith a cloth impregnated with a scent of a peculiar aromaticsweetness. her assailants were about to thrust her into anothercarriage, when a party of british bluejackets who had been onleave came upon the scene, and, without knowing anything of thenationality of the girl, had rescued her.
in her heart of hearts she did not doubt kara's complicity in thismedieval attempt to gain a wife, but of this adventure she hadtold her husband nothing. until her marriage she was constantlyreceiving valuable presents which she as constantly returned tothe only address she knew - kara's estate at lemazo. a few monthsafter her marriage she had learned through the newspapers thatthis "leader of greek society" had purchased a big house nearcadogan square, and then, to her amazement and to her dismay, karahad scraped an acquaintance with her husband even before thehoneymoon was over.
his visits had been happily few, but the growing intimacy betweenjohn and this strange undisciplined man had been a source ofconstant distress to her.
should she, at this, the eleventh hour, tell her husband all herfears and her suspicions?
she debated the point for some time. and never was she nearertaking him into her complete confidence than she was as he sat inthe big armchair by the side of the piano, a little drawn of face,more than a little absorbed in his own meditations. had he beenless worried she might have spoken. as it was, she turned theconversation to his last work, the big mystery story which, if itwould not make his fortune, would mean a considerable increase tohis income.
at a quarter to eleven he looked at his watch, and rose. shehelped him on with his coat. he stood for some time irresolutely.
"is there anything you have forgotten?" she asked.
he asked himself whether he should follow kara's advice. in anycircumstance it was not a pleasant thing to meet a ferociouslittle man who had threatened his life, and to meet him unarmedwas tempting providence. the whole thing was of courseridiculous, but it was ridiculous that he should have borrowed,and it was ridiculous that the borrowing should have beennecessary, and yet he had speculated on the best of advice - itwas kara's advice.
the connection suddenly occurred to him, and yet kara had notdirectly suggested that he should buy roumanian gold shares, buthad merely spoken glowingly of their prospects. he thought amoment, and then walked back slowly into the study, pulled openthe drawer of his desk, took out the sinister little browning, andslipped it into his pocket.
"i shan't be long, dear," he said, and kissing the girl he strodeout into the darkness.
kara sat back in the luxurious depths of his car, humming a littletune, as the driver picked his way cautiously over the uncertainroad. the rain was still falling, and kara had to rub the windowsfree of the mist which had gathered on them to discover where hewas. from time to time he looked out as though he expected to seesomebody, and then with a little smile he remembered that he hadchanged his original plan, and that he had fixed the waiting roomof lewes junction as his rendezvous.
here it was that he found a little man muffled up to the ears in abig top coat, standing before the dying fire. he started as karaentered and at a signal followed him from the room.
the stranger was obviously not english. his face was sallow andpeaked, his cheeks were hollow, and the beard he wore wasirregular-almost unkempt.
kara led the way to the end of the dark platform, before he spoke.
"you have carried out my instructions?" he asked brusquely.
the language he spoke was arabic, and the other answered him inthat language.
"everything that you have ordered has been done, effendi," he saidhumbly.
"you have a revolver?"the man nodded and patted his pocket.
"loaded?""excellency," asked the other, in surprise, "what is the use of arevolver, if it is not loaded?""you understand, you are not to shoot this man," said kara. "youare merely to present the pistol. to make sure, you had betterunload it now."wonderingly the man obeyed, and clicked back the ejector.
"i will take the cartridges," said kara, holding out his hand.
he slipped the little cylinders into his pocket, and afterexamining the weapon returned it to its owner.
"you will threaten him," he went on. "present the revolverstraight at his heart. you need do nothing else."the man shuffled uneasily.
"i will do as you say, effendi," he 'said. "but - ""there are no 'buts,' " replied the other harshly. "you are tocarry out my instructions without any question. what will happenthen you shall see. i shall be at hand. that i have a reason forthis play be assured.""but suppose he shoots?" persisted the other uneasily.
"he will not shoot," said kara easily. "besides, his revolver isnot loaded. now you may go. you have a long walk before you.
you know the way?"the man nodded.
"i have been over it before," he said confidently.
kara returned to the big limousine which had drawn up somedistance from the station. he spoke a word or two to thechauffeur in greek, and the man touched his hat.
