“Not by the Dover-Calais route. We would prefer that you travelled by Newhaven-Dieppe. Our friends are less liable to be on the alert, though I can’t even guarantee that. Oberzohn spends a lot of money in espionage. This house has been under observation for days. I will show you.”
He walked to the window and drew aside the curtain.
“Do you see a spy?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
Mr. Washington looked up and down the street.
“Sure!” he said. “That man at the corner smoking a cigar——”
“Is a detective officer from Scotland Yard,” said Manfred. “Do you see anybody else?”
“Yes,” said Washington after a while, “there’s a man cleaning windows on the opposite side of the road: he keeps looking across here.”
“A perfectly innocent citizen,” said Manfred.
“Well, he can’t be in any of those taxis, because they’re empty.” Mr. Washington nodded to a line of taxis drawn up on the rank in the centre of the road.
“On the contrary, he is in the first taxi on the rank—he is the driver! If you went out and called a cab, he would come to you. If anybody else called him, he would be engaged. His name is Clarke, he lives at 43, Portlington Mews; he is an ex-convict living apart from his wife, and he receives seven pounds a week for his services, ten pounds every time he drives Oberzohn’s car, and all the money he makes out of his cab.”