It fell to the lot of Soames always to meet
her at Charing Cross; but never once, by look or by word, did
she proffer, or invite, the slightest exchange of confidence. She
apathetically accepted his aid in conducting this intrigue as she would
have accepted his aid in putting on her opera-cloak.
The curious Soames had read right through the telephone directory from
A to Z in quest of East 18642--only to learn that no such number was
published. His ingenuity not being great, he could think of no means
to learn the address of the mysterious Mr. King. So keenly had he been
impressed with the omniscience of that shadowy being who knew all his
past, that he feared to inquire of the Eastern Exchange. His banking
account was growing handsomely, and, above all things, he dreaded to
kill the goose that laid the golden eggs.
Then came the night which shattered all. Having rung up East 18642 and
made an appointment with Gianapolis in regard to some letters for
Mrs. Leroux, he had been surprised, on reaching the corner of Victoria
Street, to find that Gianapolis was not there! He glanced up at the face
of Big Ben. Yes--for the first time during their business acquaintance,
Mr. Gianapolis was late!
For close upon twenty minutes, Soames waited, walking slowly up and
down.
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