At Swords' Point Read Online Free PDF

understood. But the man did it all with such a manifest desire to be helpful that Quinn concealed his annoyance and bridled impatience. It was when the time for baggage inspection came that Quinn discovered the loss of his briefcase.
    Those who had carried the luggage from the plane denied having seen it. And there ensued a period of confusion since Quinn's new friend embarrassed him with the noise of his complaints and the way he made them to every authority or bystander.
    Had the briefcase contained anything but irreplaceable notes Quinn would have joyfully said good-bye to it at the end of two minutes of the uproar — and would have slunk out of the office to make off in the first vehicleoffering itself for his escape. He had always hated scenes, and he was now the center of a very noisy one.
    At last the case was discovered in the very center of a mound of bags. Quinn sighed with relief and beckoned to a porter who had been the butt of part of the tirade. He put a guilder piece in the man's hand. The porter caught up both of Quinn's bags and headed to the other door, the American only too glad to follow him.
    â€œMijnheer, that other gentleman. He is good friend with you?”
    â€œJust a fellow traveler on the same plane. I don't even know his name.”
    â€œThen, Mijnheer, why does he make the joke? Your bag, Mijnheer, the small bag which he so loudly talks of. It was he who put it so, hidden among the other cases. He makes the joke?”
    Quinn did not allow himself to glance back over his shoulder at the doorway through which his “friend” might burst at any moment.
    â€œPerhaps he did. I shall ask him. Thank you for all your trouble.”
    â€œDanke, Mijnheer!” The man touched his cap.
    Quinn picked up the briefcase. He had an idea that from now on he would be happier if he kept that under his own hand.

3
    SUDDENLY A MAN OF TOO MUCH PROPERTY
    During practically every moment of the following hour Quinn wished that he had had the courage at Schipol to be rude and had fled before his self-appointed guide had joined him at the taxi stand. For by waiting he acquired a companion who stuck closer than scotch tape. It was only when van Noorden, as he belatedly identified himself, saw the American on the train for Dordrecht and the train actually pulled out of the station, that Quinn was free to relax in blessed solitude. He promised himself firmly not to go to the hotel van Noorden had recommended, and certainly he was not going to call upon any of the people whose names and addresses, scrawled across the back of a business card, had been thrust upon him in the last minute before he escaped.
    The adventure left him sleepy and cross, and he was beginning to believe himself allergic to Holland into the bargain. To cap his discomfort the compartment was filled with other passengers. Having no desire to besaddled with a second van Noorden Quinn burrowed for his notes. This would be a good time to read again about the disbanding of Bishop Odocar's order. And if he were furiously reading no one would interrupt. He turned the pages of his notebook slowly.
    He had flipped them all to the end cover and what he saw there straightened him in his seat and banished drowsiness. The leather binding was turned in to form a pocket, a handy holder for random notes. The last time he had looked at it the only contents had been a map of Sternsberg. But something new had since been added.
    It was a yellow envelope, thick, tightly sealed, new. And it had been jammed in behind the map so hurriedly that one corner was badly creased. Quinn shut the notebook without removing it.
    So that was why his briefcase had been mislaid at the airport! For it was only there that the envelope could have been planted on him. But why — and what was in it? Had he been alone he would have looked. But somehow he did not want to do that under the eyes of four strangers.
    He had to school himself in patience and recall Marusaki's