“Yes,” I said, as I gazed at the photograph.
“Well, to-day is Monday,” he said. “Next Thursday night I want you to take Madame from London in the Rolls. Go out on the Portsmouth Road by way of Kingston and Ditton, through Cobham, and on to Ripley. There, about twenty miles from London, you will find on the left-hand side an old-fashioned hotel called the Talbot. Stop there at half-past nine, and, leaving Madame in the car, go in and have a drink. Edward Houston will be awaiting you. Madame is just now at the Carlton. You will pick her up at half-past eight.”
“And Lola?” I asked, wondering if his daughter was to play any part in this new piece of trickery, whatever it might be.
“She is going to Scarborough on Thursday afternoon,” was her father’s reply.
“And when I meet this Mr. Houston,” I asked, “what then?”
“You will not meet openly. When you’ve had your drink and he has seen you, you will drive a little way along the road and there await him. He does not wish to be seen with you. He’s rather shy, you see!” and the pleasant-faced man who controlled the most dangerous criminal gang in Europe smiled sardonically. “He has his instructions, and you will follow them. Take a suit-case with you, for you may be away a few days, or longer.”
I wondered what devilry he had now planned. I tried to obtain from him some further details, but his replies were sharp and firm.
“Act just as I’ve told you, Hargreave. And please don’t be so infernally inquisitive.” Then, wishing me good night, he turned and left my room.
I longed there and then to defy him and refuse to obey, yet I dared not, knowing full well the fate that would await me if I resisted. Moreover, I had Lola to consider, and if I defied her father he most certainly would not allow his daughter to marry me.