The Box with Broken SealsOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Box with Broken Seals
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories
"Of course they did," he replied brusquely. "There's scarcely likely
to be a chief of police of any city in the United States who wouldn't
get a move on when he knew that Sam Hobson was waiting for a word. I
haven't been in the Secret Service of this country for fifteen years
for nothing. He'll come fast enough as soon as he knows I'm waiting,
but all the same, what I want to know is, if that dispatch was on the
square, why he wasn't at the station to meet us, and if it wasn't on
the square, how the hell do we come out of this?"
Their conversation was interrupted by the tinkle of the telephone
which stood upon the table between them, the instrument which both men
had been watching anxiously. Hobson snatched up the receiver.
"Police headquarters speaking? Right! Yes, this is Sam Hobson. I'm
here with Crawshay, of the English Secret Service. We got your
dispatch.--What's that?--Well?--Chief Downs is on the way, eh?--Just
started? Good! We're waiting for him."
Hobson replaced the receiver upon the instrument.
"Downs is coming right along," he announced. "I tell you what it is,
Mr. Crawshay," he went on, recommencing his walk up and down the
apartment, "I don't feel happy to be so far away from the coast.
That's what scares me. Chicago's just about the place they'd land us,
if this is a hanky-panky trick. We're twenty hours from New York, and
the _City of Boston_ sails to-morrow at five o'clock."
The Englishman shook himself and rose from his recumbent position upon
the sofa. He was a man of youthful middle-age, colourless, with
pleasant face, a somewhat discontented mouth, but keen grey eyes. He
had been sent out from Scotland Yard at the beginning of the war to
assist in certain work at the English Embassy. So far his
opportunities had not been many, or marked with any brilliant success,
and it seemed to him that the gloom of failure was already settling
down upon their present expedition.
"You don't believe, then, any more than I do, that when a certain box
we know of is opened at the Foreign Office in London, it will contain
the papers we are after?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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