He turned. "You can go now," he said. "But I don't
think you will find Sidney waiting!"
It wanted only three minutes to midnight, and Innes, rather
haggard and anxious-eyed, was pacing Paul Harley's private office
when the 'phone bell rang. Eagerly he took up the receiver.
"Hullo!" came a voice. "That you, Innes?"
"Mr. Harley!" cried Innes. "Thank God you are safe! I was growing
desperately anxious!"
"I am by no means safe, Innes! I am in one of the tightest
corners of my life! Listen: Get Wessex! If he's off duty, get
Burton. Tell him to bring--"
The voice ceased.
"Hullo!--Mr. Harley!" called Innes. "Mr. Harley!"
A faint cry answered him. He distinctly heard the sound of a
fall. Then the other receiver was replaced on the hook.
"Merciful Heavens!" whispered Innes. "What has happened? Where
was he speaking from? What can I do?"
CHAPTER XIII. NICOL BRINN HAS A VISITOR
It was close upon noon, but Nicol Brinn had not yet left his
chambers. From that large window which overlooked Piccadilly he
surveyed the prospect with dull, lack-lustre eyes. His morning
attire was at least as tightly fitting as that which he favoured
in the evening, and now, hands clasped behind his back and an
unlighted cigar held firmly in the left corner of his mouth, he
gazed across the park with a dreamy and vacant regard. One very
familiar with this strange and taciturn man might have observed
that his sallow features looked even more gaunt than usual.
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