So Nogam dived into the Underground, to come to
the surface again at St. James's Park station, whence he trotted all the
way to Queen Anne's Gate, arriving at his destination in a phase of
semi-prostration which a person of advancing years and doddering habits
might have anticipated.
Such fidelity in characterization deserved good reward, and had in it a
rare stroke of fortune; for as he drew up to it, the door opened, and Sturm
came out, saw Nogam, and stopped short.
"Thank 'Eaven, sir, I got 'ere in time," the butler panted. "If I'd missed
you, Prince Victor wouldn't 'ave been in 'arf a wax. 'E told me I must find
you to-night if I 'ad to turn all Lunnon inside out."
Pressing the message into Sturm's hand, he rested wearily against the
casing of the door, his body shaken by laboured breathing, and--while
Sturm, with an exclamation of excitement, ripped open the
envelope--surveyed the dark and rain-wet street out of the corners of his
eyes.
Across the way a slinking shadow left the sidewalk and blended
indistinguishably with the crowded shadows of an areaway.
In a voice more than commonly rich with accent, Sturm demanded sharply:
"What is this? I do not understand!"
He shook in Nogam's face the half-sheet of notepaper on which the Chinese
phonograms were drawn.
"Sorry, sir, but I 'aven't any hidea. Prince Victor didn't tell me anything
except there would be no answer, and I was to 'urry right back to Frampton
Court." Nogam peered myopically at the paper.
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