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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Black Box"

The woman whom my men were watching addressed her and
offered to show her the way. They left the place together. My men followed
them. The house has been watched ever since and we are raiding it this
afternoon. You and I will just be in time."
"You've left her there since yesterday afternoon? You've left her there
all night?" Quest exclaimed. "My God!"
Hardaway touched his arm soothingly.
"Don't worry, Mr. Quest," he said. "We don't want the woman alone; we want
the man, too. Now the man was away. He only visits the house occasionally,
and I am given to understand that he is a member of several West End
clubs. When the two women entered that house yesterday afternoon, there
wasn't a soul in it except servants. The woman telephoned for the man. He
never turned up last night nor this morning. He arrived at that house
twenty minutes ago."
Quest drew a little breath.
"It gave me a turn," he admitted. "Say, this is a slow taxi!"
The Inspector glanced out of the window.
"If this is the young lady you're looking for," he said, "you'll be in
plenty of time, never fear. What I am hoping is that we may be able to
catch my fellows before they try to rush the place. You understand, with
your experience, Mr. Quest, that there are two things we've got to think
of. We not only want to put our hand upon the guilty persons, but we want
to bring the crime home to them."
"I see that," Quest assented. "How much farther is this place?"
"We're there," Hardaway told him.


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