Evidently the watcher had placed himself somewhere
where he could command a view of the front door and the road.
Five minutes later the girl came out, the old housekeeper accompanying
her to the door, the car emerged from the lane, Zara el-Khala
entered it and was driven away. I could see no one seated beside the
chauffeur. I started my "Indian" and leapt in pursuit.
As I had anticipated, the route was Eastward, and I found myself
traversing familiar ground. From the south-west to the east of London
whirled the big car of mystery--and I was ever close behind it.
Sometimes, in the crowded streets, I lost sight of my quarry for a
time, but always I caught up again, and at last I found myself whirling
along Commercial Road and not fifty yards behind the car.
Just by the canal bridge a drunken sailor lurched out in front of my
wheel, and only by twisting perilously right into a turning called, I
believe, Salmon Lane, did I avoid running him down.
_Sacre nom!_ how I cursed him! The lane was too narrow for me to turn
and I was compelled to dismount and to wheel my "Indian" back to the
highroad. The yellow car had vanished, of course, but I took it for
granted that it had followed the main road. At a dangerous speed,
pursued by execrations from the sailor and all his friends, I set off
east once more turning to the right down West India Dock Road.
Arriving at the dock, and seeing nothing ahead of me but desolation
and ships' masts, I knew that that inebriated pig had spoiled
everything! I could have sat down upon the dirty pavement and wept,
so mortified was I! For if Zara el-Khala had secured the envelope I
had missed my only chance.
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