While I watched him dumfounded he walked across to the woman and touched her on the shoulder. She raised her tear-stained face.
“All right,” she whispered. “I am ready.”
“Get ready as soon as you like,” said he tersely.
“I'll have the man removed who is watching the house, and you can reckon on forty-eight hours to make yourself scarce.”
With never another word he seized me by the arm and hurried me out of the place! Ten paces along the street a shabby-looking fellow was standing, leaning against a pillar. Harley stopped, and:
“Even the greatest men make mistakes sometimes, Hewitt,” he remarked. “I'm throwing up the case; probably Inspector Wessex will do the same. Good morning.”
On towards the Causeway he led me—for not a word was I capable of uttering; and just before we reached that artery of Chinatown, from down-river came the deep, sustained note of a steamer's siren, the warning of some big liner leaving dock.
“That will be the Patna,” said Harley. “She sails at twelve o'clock, I think you said?”