The Red Lodge: A Mystery of Campden HillBridges, Victor
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The Red Lodge: A Mystery of Campden Hill
Bridges, Victor
Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
"No one's heard anything of him yet, sir. They expect him at two
o'clock, though."
"I know," said Colin. "I've got an appointment with him." He
paused. "Can I leave the car here until then?"
The constable scratched his head. "Well, this ain't exactly a
garage," he replied doubtfully. "Still, if you back her up quite
into that corner----"
He turned aside as he spoke, and, pocketing the five shillings which
Colin slipped into his hand, sauntered back to his former position.
* * * * * * * * *
With the best part of an hour and a half before him Colin came out
into Whitehall and paused irresolutely on the edge of the pavement.
Of all the tasks with which an impatient man can be confronted, that
of killing time is perhaps the most trying. He was not in the least
hungry, and, in any case, there was something ghastly in the thought
of sitting all that while in a half-empty restaurant, brooding
miserably over what might have happened to Nancy. If he wished to
keep his nerves steady, it seemed to him that some form of exercise
was imperatively needed, and, without hesitating further he made his
way across Parliament Green, and struck off westward along the
Embankment.
The soundness of his instinct was proved by the fact that when he
arrived back at Westminster Bridge, after a vigorous tramp of about
six miles, he felt that, whatever the next few hours might bring, his
mind and judgment were once more under proper control. The hands of
Big Ben were already at five and twenty minutes to two, and, knowing
that there was a public telephone in the station, he crossed the road
and entered the box. After a brief delay he succeeded in getting
Mark's number.
"That you, Colin?" came the latter's voice. "Yes, I've just got an
answer to the wire. It arrived a few minutes ago. If you hold on
I'll read it out to you." There was a pause. "'Mr. Penwarren is ill
in bed at Helston. As far as we are aware he has had no
communication with Miss Seymour for the last eighteen months. Should
be glad of an explanation.'"
"It's only what I expected," said Colin quietly. "There must be
something wrong, or Nancy would have let us know long before this."
"Have you told the police?"
"Not yet. I went up to the Yard, but Marsden hadn't arrived, so I
thought I'd better wait until we got the reply from Helston."
"Where are you telephoning from?"
"Westminster Bridge Station. I've arranged to meet Joe close by
here, and, unless anything's happened, he ought to be along in a few
minutes. By that time Marsden will probably have turned up."
There was a pause.
"Well, I'm ready when you want me," observed Mark. "In case there's
going to be trouble, you can count me in to the limit."
"I know that," returned Colin gratefully. "If there's any possible
way in which you can be of help I'll ring you up and let you know."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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