CHAPTER XXII
THE GRAY MIST
I was about half-way on my return journey when I heard a car racing along the road behind me, and as it came nearer I detected the fact that it was slowing down. Ere I could turn:
"Hi! Mr. Addison!" hailed a voice.
I stopped, turned round, and there was Gatton leaning out of the car and staring towards me through the deepening dusk.
"Why, Gatton!" I said, walking up to him—"I waited more than ten minutes for you, and then gave it up."
"Waited for me?"
"Yes, by the police-box."
He stared in evident wonder at me and then at the police chauffeur who drove the car.
"Whatever prompted you to do that?" he said. "Coates must have given you the wrong message. I said I would come to the house for you, not meet you in the street."
Still I remained dense to the truth, and: