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Behind it Calendar's car clung as if towed by an invisible cable, never gaining, never losing, mutely testifying to the adventurer's unrelenting, grim determination to leave them no instant's freedom from surveillance, to keep for ever at their shoulders, watching his chance, biding his time with sinister patience until the moment when, wearied, their vigilance should relax....
All the same, there were only about a dozen bits of tiling that didn't fit into her mosaic a little bit.... I think they're all tarred with the same stick all but the girl. And there's something afoot a long sight more devilish and crafty than that shilling-shocker of madam's.... Dorothy Calendar's got about as much active part in it as I have.
"She I I throw myself upon your mercy!" "What again?" "The truth the truth is, if you will have it, that I am in danger of arrest the moment I leave here. If my daughter is with me, she will have to endure the shame and humiliation " "Then why place her in such a position?" Kirkwood demanded sharply. Calendar's eyes burned, incandescent with resentment.
A blue-coated bobby was to be seen approaching with measured stride, diffusing upon the still evening air an impression of ineffably capable self-contentment. Calendar's fleshy lips parted and closed without a sound. They quivered. Beneath them quivered his assortment of graduated chins. His heavy and pendulous cheeks quivered, slowly empurpling with the dark tide of his apoplectic wrath.
They found seats on the forward deck and rested there in grim silence, both fretting under the enforced restraint, while the boat darted, like some illuminated and exceptionally active water insect, from pier to pier. As it snorted beneath London Bridge, Calendar's impatience drove him from his seat back to the gangway.
He got no immediate reply, but felt Calendar's sharp eyes upon him while he manoeuvered with matches for a light. "That's so," it came at length. "You don't know. I kind of forgot for a minute; somehow you seemed on the inside." Kirkwood laughed lightly. "I've experienced something of the same sensation in the past few hours." "Don't doubt it." Calendar was watching him narrowly.
A matter of no importance whatever, since his end was gained and the pursuing cab had been shut off by the blockade. In Calendar's driver, however, he had an adversary of abilities by no means to be despised.
We can consider details more at our leisure." Kirkwood's eyes consulted the girl's face; almost imperceptibly she nodded him permission to proceed. "Briefly, then," he began haltingly, "the man who followed us to the door here, is Miss Calendar's father." "Oh? His name, please?" "George Burgoyne Calendar." "Ah! An American; I remember, now. Continue, please."
Calendar edged forward from Kirkwood's side. "But what shall we do if my father isn't here? Wait?" "No; best not to; best to get on the Alethea as soon as possible, Miss Calendar. We can send the boat back." "'Once aboard the lugger the girl is mine' eh, Mulready? to say nothing of the loot!" If Calendar's words were jocular, his tone conveyed a different impression entirely.
"Well, well?" snapped the latter impatiently, turning to the young man. But Kirkwood was thinking quickly. For the present he contented himself with a deliberate statement of fact: "Miss Calendar has disappeared." It gave him an instant's time ... "There's something damned fishy!" he told himself. "These two are playing at cross-purposes. Calendar's no fool; he's evidently a crook, to boot.
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