Wallace of the Secret Service Read Free Page B

that a plot was on foot to get him into their power. It seemed impossible that such could be the case, but nobody knew better than Wallace himself how often the seemingly impossible happened in life, especially in his profession. A smile curled his lips for an instant as he reflected on the nature of the attempt. It was crude and gave him a poor opinion of the craftiness of those in opposition to him. Did they actually expect him to go blindly into the zenana of a private house, there to be killed or captured, or found by a professedly scandalised husband, reported to the government and sent back to England in disgrace? To use a woman as a decoy in a country where women are segregated from men was, in his opinion, a clumsy sort of ruse. The very banality of it gave his thoughts pause. Surely if he were actually known, and a conspiracy in operation to seize his person, there were dozens of ways of accomplishing their designs without causing suspicion to their proposed victim by the very puerility of the venture. Perhaps, after all, the message was genuine, and the lady was actually in possession of information which would be of use to him. Then he remembered the mocking smile which he could have sworn he had perceived beneath the gossamer veil, when she had passedhim on the bridge, and he slowly shook his head. But whichever way he contemplated the matter, it appeared evident that he was known to a certain party in Cairo, a contingency which caused him to look very grave. With a slight shrug of the shoulders he commenced to write.
    Mr Collins is honoured by the invitation of the lady in the carriage. He feels, however, that a visit to her might be misconstrued, and regrets, therefore, his inability to accept. The information which the lady desires to impart may be sent by letter, but Mr Collins is certain that a mistake of some kind has been made.
    Sir Leonard smiled grimly as he read over what he had written, then folding the paper he placed it in an envelope, which he sealed. He found the Ethiopian and soffraghi still together, but now they were apparently ignoring each other. He caught a fleeting expression of surprise on the latter’s face, which roused his suspicions more than ever. The man knew the contents of the letter, he surmised, and had expected him to be dressed to go out. Handing his note to the messenger, Wallace directed him to take it to the person who had sent him. At once the tall eunuch broke into a string of voluble Arabic, which the waiter translated to mean that the fellow had received instructions to take the English Lord with him.
    ‘Tell him that the letter explains,’ Wallace ordered curtly and, without further ado, turned and walked away.
    He was tempted to question the soffraghi in an effort to learn how much the man knew, but decided that such an essay would be injudicious and certainly unsuccessful. He went to his room,locked himself in and, filling and lighting a pipe, threw himself into a cane chair and thought things over. But he failed to come to any definite conclusion, and eventually prepared himself for bed, reflecting that perhaps Achmet would be able to give him a clue on the morrow.
    Selecting a novel from a pile on the table, he lay reading until close on midnight when, with a yawn, he put the book down and, switching off the light, composed himself for sleep. But, try as he would, he was unable to entice the requisite drowsiness, his mind persisting in dwelling upon the woman with the dark eyes and her extraordinary message to him. At last, with an impatient grunt, he reached out and turned on the light again, having decided to resume reading, when there came a gentle rap on the door. It was so soft that, at first, he thought he had imagined it, but a few seconds later it was repeated. Wondering who could want him at that time of night, Wallace slipped out of bed, and hastily donned a dressing-gown. He strode towards the door, but stopped half-way to return and rummage in a