Grip in hand, Soames boarded the car and
mounted to the top deck. He was in some doubt respecting his mode of
travel from the next point onward, but the night was fine, even if he
had to walk, and his reviving spirits would cheer him with visions of a
golden future!
His money!--That indeed was a bitter draught: the loss of his hardly
earned savings! But he was now established--linked by a common
secret--in partnership with Gianapolis; he was one of that mysterious,
obviously wealthy group which arranged drafts on Paris--which could
afford to pay him some hundreds of pounds per annum for such a trifling
service as juggling the mail!
Mr. King!--If Gianapolis were only the servant, what a magnificent man
of business must be hidden beneath the cognomen, Mr. King! And he
was about to meet that lord of mystery. Fear and curiosity were oddly
blended in the anticipation.
By great good fortune, Soames arrived at the Elephant-and-Castle in time
to catch an eastward bound motor-'bus, a 'bus which would actually carry
him to the end of Globe Road. He took his seat on top, and with greater
composure than he had known since his dramatic meeting with Gianapolis
in Victoria Street, lighted one of Mr. Leroux's cabanas (with which he
invariably kept his case filled) and settled down to think about the
future.
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