The Illustrious PrinceOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Illustrious Prince
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; Princes -- Fiction
“Seems as though he was some one out of the common, anyway,” he
remarked. “The guvnor didn’t let on who the note was from, I suppose?”
“Not he,” Liverpool answered. “The first thing he did when he came back
into the office was to tear it into small pieces and throw them on the
fire. Young Jenkins did ask him a question, and he shut him up pretty
quick.”
“Well, I suppose we shall read all about it in the papers tomorrow,”
Crewe remarked. “There isn’t much that these reporters don’t get hold
of. He must be some one out of the common--some one with a pull, I
mean,--or the captain of the Lusitania would never have let him off
before the other passengers. When are the rest of them coming through?”
“Three specials leave here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” was the
reply. “Good night.”
The station-master at Crewe hung up his receiver and went about his
duties. Twenty miles southward by now, the special was still tearing its
way into the darkness. Its solitary passenger had suddenly developed a
fit of restlessness. He left his seat and walked once or twice up and
down the saloon. Then he opened the rear door, crossed the little open
space between, and looked into the guard’s brake. The guard was sitting
upon a stool, reading a newspaper. He was quite alone, and so absorbed
that he did not notice the intruder. Mr. Hamilton Fynes quietly
retreated, closing the door behind him. He made his way once more
through the saloon, passed the attendant, who was fast asleep in his
pantry, and was met by a locked door. He let down the window and
looked out. He was within a few feet of the engine, which was obviously
attached direct to the saloon. Mr. Hamilton Fynes resumed his seat,
having disturbed nobody. He produced some papers from his breast pocket,
and spread them out on the table before him. One, a sealed envelope, he
immediately returned, slipping it down into a carefully prepared place
between the lining and the material of his coat. Of the others he
commenced to make a close and minute investigation. It was a curious
fact, however, that notwithstanding his recent searching examination, he
looked once more nervously around the saloon before he settled down to
his task. For some reason or other, there was not the slightest doubt
that for the present, at any rate, Mr. Hamilton Fynes was exceedingly
anxious to keep his own company. As he drew nearer to his journey’s end,
indeed, his manner seemed to lose something of that composure of which,
during the earlier part of the evening, he had certainly been possessed.
Scarcely a minute passed that he did not lean sideways from his seat and
look up and down the saloon. He sat like a man who is perpetually on
the qui vive. A furtive light shone in his eyes, he was manifestly
uncomfortable. Yet how could a man be safer from espionage than he!
Rugby telephoned to Liverpool, and received very much the same answer as
Crewe. Euston followed suit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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