“Is there nothing else, eh?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “Why? You are here to meet me. Rudolph sent you down from London.”
I was awaiting the prearranged word that would show the hunchback’s bonâ fides.
I gave him another opportunity of giving the password, but he seemed ignorant of it.
Next second, my suspicions being aroused, I sprang down, and crying:
“Look here, old fellow! I fancy you’ve made a mistake!” I struck him familiarly upon the back.
His hump was soft! In that instant I detected him as an impostor—a Scotland Yard detective—without a doubt!
Fortunately for me my brain acts quickly. But it was not so quick as his. He gave a shrill whistle, and in a flash from nowhere three of his colleagues appeared. They ran around the car to hold it up.
For a few seconds I found myself in serious jeopardy.