I began to wonder if Noyes had broken faith with me. Yet we had been the best of friends in the old days when I had lived and worked in London; and I thought I knew him well enough to be confident that he would assist me in every way within his power.
Therefore I wandered the streets of Peterborough or lounged in the bar of my hotel, in hourly expectation of some message from him.
His silence was ominous, and my uneasiness increased until, on the third day, I determined to remain inactive no longer.
Chapter Fifteen.
The Old Monk’s Secret.
To idle in a provincial town without friends and without occupation is neither pleasant nor profitable. In London one can always amuse one’s self and pass the time; but in dull Peterborough my principal excitement, in addition to visiting the much-restored cathedral and the local museum in the Minster Precincts, was to watch fat stock being sold by auction.
Anxiety consumed me as to what had occurred at Harpur Street, and whether The Closed Book was actually lost to me. I had telegraphed twice to Noyes, Hammersmith Police Station, but had received no response. His silence was in no way reassuring, therefore I resolved that if I heard nothing by nine o’clock that night I would return to London by the last train.
I dined at seven after a dismal day, and while at table the waiter entered the coffee-room where I sat alone, saying that a gentleman wished to see me. Next moment Noyes, dressed like a commercial traveller in dark-blue suit and bowler hat, entered the room.