But he
shook it off. He had given his word. And if he could not tell 'Toinette,
then no other soul in the universe should know. So he simply tossed his
shoulders, and, going back to the window, looked out of it, to hide the
something of triumph which had stolen into his face.
Truth to tell, he was obsessed with a feeling that something _was_
going to happen, and happen soon. The premonition, to one who was not
used to such things, carried all the more conviction. With Cleek on the
track--anything might happen. Cleek was a man for whom things never stood
still, and his amazing brain was concentrated upon this problem as it
had been concentrated--successfully--upon others. Merriton had a feeling
that it was only a matter of time.
Then, just as he was standing there, humming something softly beneath his
breath, the cavalcade, headed by Cleek and Mr. Narkom, rather grim and
silent, reached the gateway. Behind them--Merriton gave a sudden cry
which brought the doctor to his side--behind them three men were carrying
something--something bulky and large and wrapped in a black oilskin
tarpaulin.
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