Wallace at Bay Read Free Page B

and they, as well as Pestalozzi, must be in our hands or rendered impotent by next Tuesday. I am pinning my faith to one little incident connected with your finding of the Italian yesterday.’
    ‘What is that, sir?’ asked Carter quickly.
    ‘You reported that after leaving the restaurant at which he lunched he walked to Leicester Square, and there had his boots polished by a shoeblack. That is so, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘You noticed, however, that his boots did not want cleaning, that they were, in fact, already very bright. Furthermore, he remained with the shoeblack longer than it would ordinarily take to clean a pair of dirty boots, and all the time they were engaged in conversation in low voices. In short, Carter, though you took little notice of it at the time, you believed that there was some connection between the two men.’
    ‘That is true, sir,’ nodded the young man.
    ‘Well, I believe our opportunity lies in that shoeblack. Go to Leicester Square and, if he is still there, watch him and follow him when he leaves his pitch. Find out as much about him as you can; then report to me. We may be wrong, perhaps my instinct is leading me astray this time, but there is just a chance that he may turn out to be the key to the situation. None of the places which Pestalozzi visited has supplied us with any useful information yet –they will be quietly raided tonight, but I am not anticipating any great result from that. If you find the bootblack hang on to him like grim death. Understand, Carter?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    The young man took a taxi as far as the Alhambra. Then, mingling with the numerous pedestrians, he strolled along to Leicester Square. A little sigh, expressive of exultation, left his lips when he observed the man for whom he was searching at the same pitch engaged in cleaning a lady’s shoes. At first Carter felt a little troubled lest he should prove to be a different fellow, but on approaching closer his anxiety was allayed. He had taken particular notice of the bootblack on the preceding day, and it was undoubtedly he. The Secret Service man walked round the square, stepping into all the dust he could find, thereby causing his shoes to look badly in need of a polish. On returning to the bootblack he found that the lady had gone, leaving the man disengaged. He strolled slowly by as though he had not noticed him, reflecting that less suspicion would be caused if the man solicited his custom than if he went directly to him, and Carter wanted an opportunity to study him. As he had anticipated, so it happened.
    ‘Will I clean it the shoe, mister?’ asked a husky voice.
    Carter glanced at the speaker, turned his gaze to his dusty shoes, and smiled.
    ‘They do look as though they could do with a polish,’ he admitted, and stepped up to the man, placing one of his feet on the little stand.
    He felt a sense of disappointment. The bootblack’s accent was Italian, Pestalozzi was Italian. It was quite possible that the only sympathy between them was their nationality. Then heremembered the shiny boots that did not need polishing, the conversation carried on in low voices. As the bootblack assiduously cleaned his shoes, he studied him. He was clad in the regulation uniform, and obviously was a member of the bootblacks’ brigade. Carter took careful note of his number, storing it in his mind for further reference. Once or twice the man looked up, disclosing a lean, swarthy face, containing a pair of piercing, dark eyes, a somewhat broad nose and ugly mouth. He apparently possessed none of the sunny characteristics so typical of his countrymen; in fact, he appeared sullen and morose. Except for a casual remark about the weather, he made no attempt at conversation, and when Carter strove to get him to talk, either answered in monosyllables or did not reply at all.
    When the shoes were cleaned, Carter tossed him a shilling and walked on to Jones’ Restaurant. He ascended to the first floor and,