With that he pulled up the window from the outside,
and the occupant of the limousine found himself in
impenetrable darkness; for dark blue blinds covered
all the windows. He lay back, endeavoring to determine
what should be his next move. The car started
with a perfect action, and without the slightest jolt
or jar. By reason of the light which suddenly
shone in through the chinks of the blinds, he knew
that he was outside the covered courtyard; then he
became aware that a sharp turning had been taken to
the left, followed almost immediately, by one to the
right.
He directed his attention to the blinds.
“Ah! nom d’un nom! they are clever—these!”
The blinds worked in little vertical grooves and had
each a tiny lock. The blinds covering the glass
doors on either side were attached to the adjustable
windows; so that when Ho-Pin had raised the window,
he had also closed the blind! And these windows
operated automatically, and defied all M. Max’s
efforts to open them!
He was effectively boxed in and unable to form the
slightest impression of his surroundings. He
threw himself back upon the soft cushions with a muttered
curse of vexation; but the mobile mouth was twisted
into that wryly humorous smile. Always, M. Max
was a philosopher.
At the end of a drive of some twenty-five minutes
or less, the car stopped—the door was opened,
and the radiant Gianapolis extended both hands to
the occupant.
“My dear M. Gaston!” he cried, “how
glad I am to see you looking so well! Hand me
your bag, I beg of you!”
M. Max placed the bag in the extended hand of Gianapolis,
and leapt out upon the pavement.
“This way, my dear friend!” cried the
Greek, grasping him warmly by the arm.
The Frenchman found himself being led along toward
the head of the car; and, at the same moment, Said
reversed the gear and backed away. M. Max was
foiled in his hopes of learning the number of the limousine.
He glanced about him wonderingly.
“You are in Temple Gardens, M. Gaston,”
explained the Greek, “and here, unless I am
greatly mistaken, comes a disengaged taxi-cab.
You will drive to your hotel?”
“Yes, to my hotel,” replied M. Max.
“And whenever you wish to avail yourself of
your privilege, and pay a second visit to the establishment
presided over by Mr. Ho-Pin, you remember the number?”
“I remember the number,” replied M. Max.
The cab hailed by Gianapolis drew up beside the two,
and M. Max entered it.
“Good morning, M. Gaston.”
“Good morning, Mr. Gianapolis.”
LOGIC VS. INTUITION
And now, Henry Leroux, Denise Ryland and Helen Cumberly
were speeding along the Richmond Road beneath a sky
which smiled upon Leroux’s convalescence; for
this was a perfect autumn morning which ordinarily
had gladdened him, but which saddened him to-day.
