Wallace of the Secret Service Read Online Free PDF

Apparently the honour of his wife was the strongest argument in favour of his agreeing to the proposal, for he looked at Sir Leonard almost eagerly.
    ‘Tell me what you wish me to do,’ he solicited.
    Wallace pointed to the table.
    ‘There are pens, paper and ink there,’ he said. ‘Write a letter to whomsoever is concerned, explain the predicament you are in, and the conditions of your release. One of those Arabs can take the note, and I suppose, as you have apparently entered the hotel without being seen, Mr Henderson can be brought up in the same manner.’
    ‘Suppose my – friends refuse to send him?’
    Sir Leonard shrugged his shoulders.
    ‘Then you go to prison. It depends entirely upon you now whether you are released, and your wife saved not only imprisonment but a most embarrassing disclosure. But I warn you; no treachery! On the entry into this room of any unauthorised persons, whom in your simplicity you may ask to come to your rescue, I will shoot you and at the same moment press that bell over there. I hope you thoroughly understand me.’
    ‘I will write in French, then you can read the letter yourself,’ muttered the man hoarsely.
    For quite ten minutes he wrote and, from the intent expression on his face, Wallace gathered that he was addressing an earnest appeal to the person concerned. At length he laid down his pen, and handed the letter to his captor. It stated matters bluntly and concisely. Having read it, and found nothing in it of an objectionable nature, Wallace called one of the Arabs to him. The man, his eyes alight with suspicion, approached warily, and wasgiven his instructions. The Englishman then let him out of the room, and locked the door after him, taking care to keep his eyes on the three who remained. As he walked back towards them the woman smiled.
    ‘You are a brave man, Monsieur,’ she observed, a note of admiration in her voice. ‘Do you realise that you have sentenced yourself to death? You will never leave Cairo alive.’
    ‘We shall see, Madame,’ he rejoined. ‘I don’t think I have much to fear from people who are so clumsy in their intrigues.’
    ‘They are not usually clumsy,’ she retorted, ‘and this will be a lesson to them not to underestimate Sir Leonard Wallace in the future.’
    He bowed mockingly.
    ‘I thank you for the implied compliment, Madame. Can I offer either of you any refreshment? I am afraid I have only whisky and soda handy.’
    They declined, and Sir Leonard helped himself. The time passed wearily by. The little travelling clock on the mantelpiece pointed to the hour of three, and still Henderson did not come. The Egyptian began to look perturbed, and spoke to his wife who had fallen into a gentle doze. She roused, and the two held a whispered conversation. Wallace, who had been half-sitting, half-reclining on the bed, had never for a moment relaxed his vigilance, and appeared as fresh as though he had slept all the previous day. The Arab in the corner had gone frankly to sleep, and was snoring gently, his mouth wide open.
    At last came a soft knock. Wallace sat up alertly, and the other two looked at him with eyes in which suspense struggled with hope. He considered them in silence for a moment, then took the bell push, which hung above the bed, into the hand that held therevolver and pointed to the door. He addressed the woman.
    ‘Will you be good enough to let my friend in?’ he requested. ‘And Madame will remember that, if there are others who enter in the hope of effecting a rescue, I will shoot her husband and, at the same time, ring this bell.’
    She darted a look of detestation at him, rose, and walked slowly across the room, cloaking her head in her shawl as she did so. Before turning the key she hesitated, and there came another rap, whereupon she opened the door and stepped back. Into the room stumbled a man, to all appearances in the last stages of exhaustion. His clothing was unkempt and filthy, his eyes were sunken and