Conspiracies -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction
Mr. Teal, however, missed the last part of that observation, for as
he spoke Storm fired. There was a scream of pain, and a police
whistle sounded shrilly. The next instant Inspector Teal was
deafened by the roar of an open exhaust. Storm was already at the
wheel of his long silver Hirondel, and Mr. Teal climbed in beside him
briskly, A crowd had already gathered in the yard, and Storm made his
Klaxon howl urgently.
A uniformed man signalled them to stop, but stepped aside when he
recognized the detective.
"Arrest that man!" shouted Teal, as they went past.
The Hirondel skidded hectically into Piccadilly, swinging straight
across the nose of an omnibus. There was a screech of grinding
brakes, a chorus of angry yells, and the silver car lurched across
the road and headed west, gathering speed with powerful ease.
They sailed down the slight gradient towards Hyde Park Corner,
cutting in and out of the stream of traffic with a daring that made
Inspector Teal grip the side of the car hard and temporarily suspend
mastication of his chewing gum.
"Something funny happening at Hannassay's," Storm explained, raising
his voice to make himself heard. "Secretary rang me up--two men
trying to get in the back door, and Hannassay in his bedroom, locked
in, and can't be woken. I heard a shot, and then the line went dead.
Respectability--huh!"
CHAPTER IV
TALKING OF TRIANGLES
Susan Hawthorne saw the door of the library opening slowly, and her
heart stood still.
The man outside was Morini--she saw his baby blue eyes above the
white silk muffler that was bound about the lower part of his face.
She saw something else that was blue, also, but by no means baby
like, something that came up like the head of a striking snake....
The electric light switch was close to her hand, and she clicked it
down and ducked swiftly. Even as she did so the sudden darkness was
split by a streak of orange fire, and a deafening explosion battered
on her ear-drums and left them buzzing painfully. The next instant
she had smashed the heavy telephone twice against the delicate lever
of the switch and efficiently mangled the mechanism.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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