However, _pardieu!_ I have said that despair is not permitted by the
Bureau. I rode home to my hotel, deep in reflection. Whether the girl
had the envelope or not, at least she had escaped detection by the
doctor; therefore if she had failed she would try again. I could sleep
in peace until the morrow.
Of the following day, which I spent as I had spent the preceding one,
I have nothing to record. At about the same time in the evening the
yellow car again rolled into view, and on this occasion I devoted all
my attention to the dark-skinned chauffeur, upon whom I directed my
glasses.
As the girl alighted and spoke to him for a moment, he raised the
goggles which habitually he wore and I saw his face. A theory which I
had formed on the previous night proved correct. The chauffeur was the
Hindu, Chunda Lal! As Zara el-Khala walked up the steps he backed
the car into the narrow lane and I watched him constantly. Yet, watch
as closely as I might, I could not see where he concealed himself in
order to command a view of the road.
On this occasion, as I know, Dr. Stuart was at home. Nevertheless, the
girl stayed for close upon half an hour, and I began to wonder if some
new move had been planned. Suddenly the door opened and she came out.
I crept through the bushes to my bicycle and wheeled it on to the
drive. I saw the car start; but Madame Fortune being in playful mood,
my own engine refused to start at all, and when ten minutes later I
at last aroused a spark of life in the torpid machine I knew that
pursuit would be futile.
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