the window’s opening and touched the ground with his toes.
“Au revoir, pal,� she flashed with her old fire. “Go now and get ready for the game! Good-by, Chester Fay! Good-by!�
He heard the sash softly close as he turned away from the house.
CHAPTER VI
EDGED TOOLS
The grip of a London dawn was in the air as Fay rounded the hedge, within the foliage of the house next door to Saidee Isaacs’. He found his tweed overcoat, into the pockets of which he crammed his gloves.
He went out then into the silent lane and struck toward the east with long swinging strides which carried him past constables, early morning workers and the heavy lorries which were streaming Londonward.
His eyes were sanguine and held high. His elbows bent at his sides. The absence of sleep from the moment he had been awakened by the turnkey at Dartmoor was unnoticed. He was free! The world was wide! And there was a woman in it for him!
He thought of Saidee Isaacs as he hurried along. She had come up out of the underworld. She had prospered and gained in strength and beauty. More than these two things, she represented the entire sex to him. He knew that the five years of prison life had glorified women and lowered men in his estimation.
The mystery of her position, her close touch with the Yard, her willingness to send him on the mission to Holland, which was bound to prove dangerous, caused him concern as he reached Hyde Park Corner and passed the iron-grilled fence of Apsley House.
The City roared a warning. The rattle of busses and cabs over the pavements clashed with his thoughts. It was all new and terrifying to one who had never known fear. He felt, instinctively, that he was being followed. He fled eastward without glancing behind him. He reached the entrance to Berkeley Street and turned northward.