“Don’t forget,” he said, pointing to a long, oblong box secured by a strong lock. “Draw the rug a little more over your knees—so.”
I obeyed him and let it hang down to hide the box, which I began to see was his object.
“And if you should meet anyone and they should be impertinent enough to ask you where you are going, don’t tell them. Give them your card and tell them to go to the devil. If they are very pressing indeed, you must tell a lie. Say that you’ve been to dine with Sir Sedgwick Bromley at Hatherly Hall. Don’t forget the name.”
“Very well. Are you coming back to the Metropole to-night?” I asked.
“I think so. But if you don’t mind I should be glad if you would have the box taken up into your room and keep it for me. I shouldn’t like anything to happen to it.”
I promised, but without much alacrity. We shook hands and the carriage drove off.
CHAPTER XLVI.
A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.
We could scarcely have accomplished more than a mile of our homeward journey when, with a sudden jerk which almost threw me forward, the carriage was brought to a standstill.
On the opposite side of the road were two carriages, or, rather, flys, from one of which a tall, slim man was in the act of descending. Several other men on horseback were just riding up from behind. They were all in plain clothes, but something about their physique and general appearance had an unmistakable suggestion of police.
The man who had been descending from the nearer of the two carriages crossed the road and approached me.