"Are you disengaged?" he asked.
Whether it was that I sympathized with him--he had no topcoat or
umbrella--or whether I was guided by Fate I know not, but as he spoke
I determined to give up my dreary vigil for that night. _Pardieu!_ but
certainly it was Fate again!
"Well, I suppose I am, sir," I said, and asked him where he wanted
to go.
He gave an address not five hundred yards from my own rooms! I thought
this so curious that I hesitated no longer.
"Jump in," I said; and still seeking in my mind for a link between the
scorpion case and China, I drove off, and in less than half an hour,
for the streets were nearly empty, arrived at my destination.
The passenger, whose name was Dr. Keppel Stuart, very kindly suggested
a glass of hot grog, and I did not refuse his proferred hospitality.
When I came out of his house again, the rain had almost ceased, and
just as I stooped to crank the car I thought I saw a shadowy figure
moving near the end of a lane which led to the tradesmen's entrance of
Dr. Stuart's house. A sudden suspicion laid hold upon me--a horrible
doubt.
Having driven some twenty yards along the road, I leaned from my seat
and looked back. A big man wearing a black waterproof overall was
standing looking after me!
Remembering how cleverly I had been trailed from Miguel's cafe to my
flat, in Paris (for I no longer doubted that someone had followed me
on that occasion), I now perceived that I might again be the object of
the same expert's attention.
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