"Ah," he muttered. "Might have foreseen it."
All the windows were curtained, or rather, as a rough investigation revealed, were closed with aluminium shutters which were immovable.
A moment later, as the car moved off, a lamp became lighted above him. Then he saw that several current periodicals were placed invitingly in the rack, as well as a box of very choice Egyptian cigarettes.
"H'm," he murmured.
He made a close investigation upon every side, but he knew enough of the organization with which he was dealing to be prepared for failure.
He failed. There was no cranny through which he could look out. Palpably, it would be impossible to learn where he was being taken. The journey might be a direct one, or might be a detour. He wished that he could have foreseen this device. Above all, he wished that Detective Sergeant Stokes had been a more clever man.
It would have been good to know that he was followed. His only hope was that someone detailed by Paul Harley might be in pursuit.
Lighting a fresh cigar, Nicol Brinn drew a copy of the Sketch from the rack, and studied the photographs of more or less pretty actresses with apparent contentment. He had finished the Sketch, and was perusing the Bystander, when, the car having climbed a steep hill and swerved sharply to the right, he
