CHAPTER X
THE AMERICAN BAR
"You're wanted at the 'phone, Mr. Britt," said Miss Pelham. It was late
in the evening a day or two afterward. Britt went into the booth. He was
not in there long, but when he came out he found that Miss Pelham had
disappeared. The coincidence was significant; Mr. Saunders was also
missing from his seat on the window-sill at the far end of the long
corridor. Britt looked his disgust, and muttered something
characteristic. Having no one near with whom he could communicate, he
boldly set off for the hanging garden, where Deppingham had installed
the long-idle roulette paraphernalia. The quartette were placing
prospective rubies and sapphires on the board, using gun-wads in lieu of
the real article.
Britt's stocky figure came down through the maze of halls, across the
vine-covered bridge and into the midst of a transaction which involved
perhaps a hundred thousand pounds in rubies.
"Say," he said, without ceremony, "the Enemy's in trouble. Bowles just
telephoned. There's a lot of excitement in the town. I don't know what
to make of it."
"Then why the devil are you breaking in here with it?" growled
Deppingham, who was growing to hate Britt with an ardour that was
unmanageable.
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