Wallace of the Secret Service by Alexander Wilson

Author:Alexander Wilson [Alexander Wilson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749018603
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2015-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

A Greek Tragedy

Sir Leonard Wallace descended from the Orient Express at Constantinople, and looked round him as though he were expecting to be met but, before he had a chance of examining the crowd properly, he found himself surrounded by a shouting, importunate horde of baggage porters. The short, stout figure of Batty, his eyes registering horror, his snub nose looking more pugilistic than usual, fought its way through the throng, showering nautical maledictions on the heads of the men who dared to press round his employer.

‘I think one porter will be sufficient, Batty,’ observed Sir Leonard, as the round, red face of his confidential servant appeared at his side. ‘We hardly want a hundred.’

‘I’ll fix the swabs, sir,’ promised the ex-naval man. ‘’Ere, you,’ he crooked his finger at a fellow, who looked somewhat less villainous than the rest, ‘come with me, and get ready to take luggage aboard. The rest o’ you up anchor. Now then, look smart about it.’

They may not have understood his language, but there was no mistaking his meaning, especially when he had knocked a few heads together. Never was a traveller arriving in the Sublime Porte so quickly rid of the unwelcome attentions of the railway ‘bandits’, as Sir Leonard Wallace. Batty, having satisfied himself, as he picturesquely put it, that decks were cleared, went off to find the luggage, taking the selected porter with him, and Wallace continued his scrutiny of the travellers, loungers, and people who had come to meet friends. Presently a tall, spare man, with pale face and dark eyes, threaded his way towards him, and raised his hat.

‘Hallo, Winslow,’ greeted Sir Leonard, ‘I was beginning to think that you were allowing me to arrive unheralded and unsung. How is Sir George?’

‘Desperately ill, sir,’ was the solemn reply. ‘He is not expected to live.’

Wallace stared at the attaché.

‘Not expected to live?’ he repeated. ‘I had no idea it was as bad as that.’

‘None of us had, sir, until a few hours ago. He seems to be in terrible agony now, and all the science of Dr Von Bernhardt fails to give him any relief.’

‘This is terrible. We had better drive straight to the embassy.’

‘I have a car waiting, if you’ll follow me, sir.’

Batty arrived with the luggage, and was given his instructions; then Sir Leonard, accompanied by Captain Winslow, drove to the house of the British Minister. Without delay he was shown into the sick room, where he found the famous Viennese doctor, a nurse, and Lady Paterson standing silently by the bed, anxiously watching the patient. Although the door was opened and shut very quietly, it was heard, and the tall woman, whose husband lay dying, turned sharply, and looked questioningly at the newcomer. Recognising him she crossed the room towards him, and shook hands. Despite her fifty years Lady Paterson was still a beautiful woman, but now her face was lined and ravaged by sorrow. Wallace was shocked to note her pallor and the tragedy that showed in her eyes.

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