‘Here is one,—this is for Bedford.’
It ran:
‘Arrest the Arab who is in train due at 1.29. When leaving St Pancras he was in a third-class compartment in front waggon. He has a large bundle, which detain. He took two third singles for Hull. Also detain his companion, who is dressed like a tramp. This is a young lady whom the Arab has disguised and kidnapped while in a condition of hypnotic trance. Let her have medical assistance and be taken to a hotel. All expenses will be paid on the arrival of the undersigned who is following by special train. As the Arab will probably be very violent a sufficient force of police should be in waiting.
‘Augustus Champnell.’
‘And this is the other. It is probably too late to be of any use at St Albans,—but send it there, and also to Luton.’
‘Is Arab with companion in train which left St Pancras at 12.0? If so, do not let them get out till train reaches Bedford, where instructions are being wired for arrest.’
The Inspector rapidly scanned them both.
‘They ought to do your business, I should think. Come along with me—I’ll have them sent at once, and we’ll see if your train’s ready.’
The train was not ready,—nor was it ready within the prescribed ten minutes. There was some hitch, I fancy, about a saloon. Finally we had to be content with an ordinary old-fashioned first-class carriage. The delay, however, was not altogether time lost. Just as the engine with its solitary coach was approaching the platform someone came running up with an envelope in his hand.
‘Telegram from St Albans.’