Shadow The Baron Read Online Free PDF

might find Mr. Plender?”
    “He’s out dancing, somewhere.”
    “Oh,” said the girl, who had a pleasant voice. “I’m sorry I’ve missed him, but will you please give him this?”

 
5:   Man of His Word
    Mannering slid into the hall as the front door closed. The maid had a small package in her hand.
    “She wouldn’t come in, sir.”
    “That’s all right.’ Mannering took the packet and slipped it into his pocket. “Switch the light off until I’ve gone, will you?” As the light went out, he opened the door and stepped into the wider passage beyond. He could hear no sound of footsteps. The Shadow’s messenger wasn’t in sight He hurried to the landing, and pressed the lift button. The lift arrived almost at once, and he reached the ground floor as a girl walked across the big, carpeted hall. A porter, in uniform, said: “Good night.”
    “Good night, thank you.”
    The girl sounded young and timid. Mannering stepped unnoticed out of the lift, He saw her clearly against the brighter light. She was well dressed, and walked easily. He reached the door as she stepped into a waiting taxi.
    “The Grand Palace Hotel,” she said to the driver.
    “Okay, Miss.”
    Mannering was already at the Sunbeam Talbot. The engine started at a touch, and before the taxi was out of
    Bray Street, he was on the move. The taxi turned right, towards Piccadilly; it would go on to the Circus, to reach the Grand Palace Hotel, which was almost within walking distance. Without hurrying, Mannering kept the cab in sight. It reached Piccadilly Circus, but instead of turning left to the hotel turned into Haymarket.
    “They’re careful,” Mannering murmured; and laughed to himself. He followed to Trafalgar Square, then across the Strand to the Adelphi. The taxi took several turnings in that quiet backwater off the main thoroughfare, and pulled up halfway along a narrow street of residential houses. Mannering drove to the end, returning on foot. The girl was standing by the side of the taxi, in the shadow.
    He heard the taxi driver laugh.
    The girl turned into a house; the seventh on the right hand side of the street. The cab turned. Mannering hurried back to his car, and was facing the same direction as the taxi when it appeared again. Its hire sign was down, but Mannering saw no passenger. It turned towards the Embankment and stopped at the first set of traffic lights. Several cars and taxis were between it and Mannering when they started off again. At Blackfriars Bridge, the taxi turned right, and then rattled over the bridge towards Southwark. It was stopped again at traffic lights and a few hundreds yards along, turned off the main road. Mannering didn’t follow, but stopped the car. A constable came along towards him.
    Mannering called: “Can I park here, constable?”
    “How long for, sir?”
    “Oh, half an hour or so.”
    “That’s all right, sir, at this time of night.”
    He went off with the Juggernaut tread of the traditional policeman, and Mannering turned in to one of the lighted doorways. He didn’t stay, but walked to the road which the taxi had taken. He found himself in a rabbit warren of sparsely lighted narrow streets, between tall warehouses. Walking on, he came presently to an all night cafe. The eyes of four solitary customers turned to him with veiled suspicion as he went in. The proprietor, a meek looking man with a walrus moustache, came bustling towards him on the other side of the counter.
    “Any cigarettes?” asked Mannering. “They told me I might be lucky, here.”
    “Got a few Players, if they’ll do, sir.”
    “Thanks. And a cup of tea.”
    Mannering, waiting for the tea and cigarettes, looked casually round the almost empty cafe. “Hardly worth your while opening all night, is it?” he asked with the air of a man pleasantly and unimportantly filling a pause.
    “You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of work at the warehouses by night. There’re a couple of all night garages, too. Our