Bearer will bring you to where we are. Don't talk. Don't do anything. Just get into the car.
JONAH.
I stared at the words stupidly.
Then I looked at the chauffeur standing, hat in hand, and stepped into the depths of a luxurious limousine.
A moment later we were whipping over the cobbles.
It was nearly half-past seven, and I had just walked back from the garage where I had deposited Pong. Whether my instructions that the radiator was to be mended and the car to be washed had been understood and would be executed, I was almost too tired to care. I was also abominably cold. The prospect of an evening and night attended with every circumstance of discomfort was most depressing. For the fiftieth time I was wishing that we had never come.
And then at the door of the hotel I had been handed the message….
There was a foot-warmer in the limousine and a voluminous fur-rug. I settled myself contentedly. What it all meant, I had not the faintest idea. Enough that I was comfortable and was beginning to grow warm. My faith, moreover, in Jonah was profound.
The car drew up with a rush before a mansion.
As I stepped out, the chauffeur removed his hat, and the front door was opened.