It was graying dusk when the inspector rose and brought out the handcuffs. Saidee Isaacs turned from the window and flashed a protest as Fay’s wrist was nipped and gyved to MacKeenon’s left hand.
She held her tongue and stood erect. The train glided through the murk of a London station-yard. Switch-point lights flashed—green and white. A roar sounded of hollow sheds. A grinding of brakes announced the last stop. The guard appeared, drew out a great bunch of keys and unlocked the door. He thrust his head inside.
“Hall hout!� he said. “They’re waiting for you, inspector.�
Fay, on the end of a bright steel chain, followed the detective. Saidee Isaacs, who might have dropped back, stepped up loyally. The three hurried through a curious crowd and glided out of a side door.
The same black car, with its H.M.S. plates, that had brought Fay to London from Dartmoor, was waiting. The same driver sat in the front seat. In the rear, holding an inviting door, stood the little old man who had followed the cracksman to Holland. His bundle
lay on the seat. It was the nipper grip of the Yard—and perfect team-work!
The ride south and then west through the crowded throng of City clerks and busses was made in utter silence. MacKeenon sat between Fay and the girl. The little old man, whose eyes were as bright as a terrier’s, watched everything. The pouches on the sides of his jaw were leathern and long. He sniffed at times. More times, he coughed with a distressing rasp like a growl or a low bark.
The car turned into the street upon which was the House of the Two Lions. The brakes went on with a clamp. The throttle was slowed as the driver lifted his foot from the pedal. He sprang out to the curb. A smell of hot oil permeated the night air. A double glow from two lamps illuminated the front of the house. A man stood waiting!
Sir Richard nodded his head to MacKeenon after the inspector had hurried Fay across the pavement and up the flight of steps. The chief of the bureau glanced keenly at Saidee Isaacs. He said nothing. His manner was cold. His great jaw snapped shut. It was like a double trap to Fay.
The light in the hallway was barely sufficient to reveal a flight of stairs leading upward and a closed door at the end. Toward this door Sir Richard stepped, threw it open, and bowed as MacKeenon led his suspect into the center of the huge room, where first Fay had seen the cipher sheets.