"Come on!" he called to the other man.
And a second later he was charging through the street as if he rode
with despatches through a zone of rifle fire. Behind him clattered a
rain-soaked trooper and two horses.
Colonel Kirby stepped out of his bathroom just as Warrington
arrived, and arranged his white dress-tie before the sitting-room
mirror.
"Looks fishy to me, sir," said Warrington, hurrying in and standing
where the rain from his wet clothes would do least harm.
There was a space on the floor between two tiger-skins where the
matting was a little threadbare. Messengers, orderlies or servants
always stood on that spot. After a moment, however, Kirby's servant
brought Warrington a bathroom mat.
"How d'ye mean?"
Warrington explained.
"What did the police say?"
"Said they were busy."
"Now, I could go to the club," mused Kirby, "and see Hetherington,
and have a talk with him, and get him to sign a search-warrant. Armed
with that, we could--"
"Perhaps persuade a police officer to send two constables with it
to-morrow morning!" said Warrington, with a grin.
"Yes," said Kirby.
"And if we do much on our own account we'll fall foul of the Indian
Penal Code, which altereth every week," said Warrington.
"If it weren't for the fact that I particularly want a word with
him," said Kirby, giving a last tweak to his tie and reaching out for
his mess-jacket that the servant had laid on a chair, "there'd not be
much ground that I can see for action of any kind.
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