Shadow The Baron Read Online Free PDF Page B

job’s to serve the public, that’s my motto.”
    “It couldn’t be better. Anywhere I can get a taxi?”
    “Several places,” the man said promptly. “Nearest is straight on, first right, then it’s at the next corner. Only a little place, but there’s always someone on duty at night. Anything else I can do for you, sir?”
    “No, thanks, that was good.” Mannering went out, nodding to the suspicious quartet, and sauntered to the end of the road. None of the men came out to watch him. He walked briskly to the corner. The main entrance to the taxi garage was in a side street. Two men were talking in a dim light, one of them in shirt sleeves, the other in muffler and coat. Mannering saw both men vividly; the first plump, the other with a face which was hatchet thin. He thought it was the driver of the girl’s taxi. He walked past, glancing inside and saw the taxi. He recognised both the shape and the registration number.
    The two men watched him without expression.
    He walked on to the main road and back to his own car. No one approached, and no one had followed. Was he taking a lot of precautions for nothing? It could be, but it wasn’t until he was on the other side of Blackfriars Bridge that he felt quite free from the risk of surveillance.
    He was at Lulu’s before one o’clock.
     
    “John,” said Lorna, from her bed.
    “Not asleep?” It was four o’clock, and they had been home for over an hour.
    “What happened tonight?”
    “I followed a girl to an address in Buckley Street and a taxi to Southwark. I fancy both know something about the Shadow.”
    “Why did you tell Toby that you didn’t have any luck?”
    “Because if I had, he’d probably tell Bristow. No reason why he shouldn’t, no reason why I should ask him to keep it to himself, after all. Mary has her pendant back, so Toby should be happy. Or Mary should.”
    “What are you going to do next?”
    “Come and help you go to sleep,” said Mannering, and pushed back the bedclothes.
     
    Two days later, towards evening, Larraby arrived at Quinns and paused in the open doorway of the office, to say that he thought he had some information that would be of interest. Mannering gave him five minutes, and then followed him. Larraby was standing in front of the little picture, which was now clean except in one corner.
    “I feel sure it is a Rubens, sir.”
    “Probably. What do you know, Josh?”
    “Well,” said Larraby, with indirectly expressed triumph, “I discovered that the garage behind the Southwark Road changed hands recently. It was up for sale six or seven months ago, and was bought by a man new to the London taxi business. He said he’d had a lot of experience in the Midlands, and brought his own staff with him – two mechanics and a clerk. He employs London drivers, of course, but there’s one very interesting thing, sir.”
    “What?”
    “He’s taken out a licence himself, and started to drive. He was out in the cab you saw, on Wednesday night. I got all of this in a roundabout way from one of the drivers he employs. He – that is, the proprietor – is a tall, thin man. He isn’t popular, although he pays well. Too big for his boots. He doesn’t go there regularly, though, leaves the management to one of the men he brought with him.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Caton – CATON. The other information makes it particularly interesting,” said Larraby, warming to his story. “At Number 13, Buckley Street, the three separate flats have all been rented by the same man. He lives on the top floor, has an office on the bottom floor, and a kind of warehouse on the middle floor. He’s a single man, but has two people sharing the flat with him – the girl, who seems to run the place, and an older woman. The girl’s name is Caton, but the man’s name is Smith.”
    “Ah,” said Mannering, absently. “And Smith is tall and thin, with a sardonic manner.”
    “That is so,” said Larraby. “I don’t think there is much