“Very nice indeed,” said Edestone, handing him a half-crown. “I am glad to have discovered your place and I shall come again.”
At the door he encountered Smith, who was lingering about as if waiting for him.
“Oh, Mr. Edestone,” he forced himself to say, swallowing and fumbling with his mouth. “I remember when I was fixing up your Little Place in the Country for you that you took a great deal of interest in old English prints. Well, I have just found an old print shop over in the Whitechapel district with some of the most wonderful old prints, and if you have the time to spare I would like to take you over and have the old man show them to you.”
“I should like to very much,” said Edestone. “I have just been wondering what I should do with myself this afternoon.”
“The Kaiser and God will bless you for this,” the restaurant keeper whispered into Smith’s ear, after he had bowed Edestone out to the sidewalk.
“Mr. Smith, will you please give the address to the driver,” said Edestone as he stepped into the taxi. Smith leaned over and gave some mumbled instructions to the chauffeur, who had remained upon his box; then he took his place at the side of his friend and patron.
But no sooner had the motor started than he turned to Edestone. “Mr. Edestone,”—his voice trembled so violently that he could scarcely speak,—“please do not move or seem surprised at what I am going to say.”
Edestone drew back slightly and looked at him. He thought at first that the man had suddenly lost his reason. Smith was perfectly livid and his little eyes were starting from his head. His mouth was open and he seemed to be vainly trying to draw his blue lips over his great dry yellow teeth on which they seemed to catch, giving him the appearance of a snarling dog as he cringed in the corner of the cab. One hand was pulling at his collar while with the other he clutched at the seat in a vain effort to restrain the tremors which were shaking him from head to foot. “Don’t speak. I must talk and talk fast,” he said.
Edestone leaned forward as if to halt the car, but the fellow caught him by the knee in a grip almost of desperation.
“For God’s sake don’t do that!” he pleaded. “He will kill both of us. Oh, don’t you understand? He is a German spy. I am German, Rebener is German, we are all Germans—all spies. We have been watching you for the past six months. This man is now driving you to a place where they will certainly kill you unless you turn over that instrument which you have in your pocket.”