“That’ll do. Look here, I may require your help.”
“Welcome, sir—when I’ve touched that fiver.”
“Take it now.” A bank-note rustled.
“You’re a real gentleman! Thank ’ee, sir!”
Before long the cab left familiar thoroughfares, and began a journey through a succession of more or less mean streets. In reply to Colin’s questions his companion named some of them, without, however, making Colin much the wiser. But what mattered it whither he was going so long as it was to Kitty? His heart was wild with anticipation; his hand trembled on the crushed envelope that she had so lately touched. He had no fear of not being able to rescue her. If necessary he would request police assistance, but he did not expect to have to go that length. People who abducted girls, or took temporary charge of them, were not the sort to wait for the police. Colin, too, had a fairly heavy stick which Sharp had put into his hand as he left the flat. Certainly he was not afraid. He looked at his watch. Why, he might not only rescue Kitty, but manage to catch West at Euston also! As for Symington and Corrie. . . . The shabby-genteel young man began to talk earnestly.
The cab stopped at a corner. The guide got out and walked slowly down a narrow pavement, in front of houses that still wore an air of respectability, dingy indeed, and decaying, but not to be wholly suppressed. The long street was indifferently lighted and void of traffic.
Colin paid the driver and followed. By arrangement he did not overtake his guide, but watched him for a signal.
They were half-way down the street when the leader threw out his left arm. Colin marked the position; and on reaching it found a gateless space in the railing leading to a steep and narrow flight of steps. He paused for a moment, noted the second low window on his right, which showed a very faint glimmer behind its bars and blind, looked again to make sure that his guide had halted within call, as agreed, and with a wave of his hand, and grasping his stick, began cautiously to descend into the darkness. A moment later he was tapping discreetly on the window, and then—
He was seized from behind, thrown backwards and downwards, into, as it seemed, an atmosphere of chloroform. The last distinct sounds he heard were the pants of a motor and a strange voice saying, “Hurry up, there’s the car.”
* * * * *