Wallace at Bay by Alexander Wilson

Author:Alexander Wilson [Alexander Wilson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749018801
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2016-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Carter Goes For a Walk

Carter placed some distance between himself and the Canute Hotel before entering a telephone booth. He was quickly put through to Sir Leonard’s office when the clerk in charge of the telephone switchboard at Secret Service headquarters knew who was speaking. The chief listened to all he had to say, asking a question now and again, but not otherwise interrupting. At the conclusion of the recital he uttered a few words of approval which caused the young Secret Service man to feel a sense of deep pleasure. As Carter had anticipated, he was directed to continue living the character he had assumed, and to depart for Vienna without appearing at his home or headquarters or holding any communication whatever with friends or colleagues. Sir Leonard assured him that, unless something unforeseen happened, he would keep in constant touch with him from the moment he left London throughout his stay in Austria.

‘You may not recognise me or those with me,’ he concluded, ‘but if accosted make certain that the man speaking to you has an artificial left arm. If, by some chance, I lose touch with you, call in the shop of Lalére and Company, in Vienna, and buy a bottle of scent. It might be as well to supply yourself with a woman friend in case that becomes necessary, Carter.’

The young man smiled to himself.

‘I understand, sir,’ he returned.

‘You’d better use some of that money Modjeska gave you to buy an outfit. It would be the natural thing to do. Good luck!’

Carter went to a cheap shop in the Strand, and bought a ready-made suit, a few shirts and collars, and a somewhat striking felt hat of a dark shade of green. Loaded with his parcels he returned to the Canute Hotel. An Italian selling baked potatoes not far from the door showed a gleam of white teeth in a smile as he offered to sell him some. The Englishman declined. Grote was emerging as he entered, and favoured him with a nod which was obviously intended to be friendly.

‘In Vienna,’ he muttered, ‘you will begin to live,’ and passed on.

Taking his purchases up to his room, the Secret Service man packed them, with the exception of the hat, into his battered suitcase. That done he went down to see the proprietor. He found the latter sitting moodily in his office.

‘I am leaving here early in the morning,’ he announced. ‘Can I have breakfast and the bill about eight?’

‘What you, too!’ quoth the landlord. ‘I shouldn’t have thought a death in the hotel would have bothered you.’

‘It doesn’t. I am leaving because I’ve a chance to get a job in the country.’

‘Sez you!’ sneered Mr Fellowes. He and his wife were inveterate film-goers. ‘Mr Modjeska and Mr Grote go this evening, Mr and Mrs Curzon have already gone, and Mr Hawthorne goes this afternoon. I suppose they’ve all got a chance of jobs in the country. It’s too bad a poor, hard-working hotel proprietor has to suffer, because a fellow who ought to have known better goes and kills himself.

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