Scarcely knowing what he
did, he rose and leaned forward to whisper in Fraide's ear.
Fraide was seen to turn, his thin face interested and
concerned, then he was seen to nod once or twice in
acquiescence, and a moment later Chilcote stepped quietly out
of his place.
One or two men spoke to him as he hurried from the House, but
he shook them off almost uncivilly, and, making for the
nearest exit, hailed a cab.
The drive to Grosvenor Square was a misery. Time after time
he changed from one corner of the cab to the other, his acute
internal pains prolonged by every delay and increased by every
motion. At last, weak in all his limbs, he stepped from the
vehicle at his own door.
Entering the house, he instantly mounted the stairs and passed
to his own rooms. Opening the bedroom door, he peered in
cautiously, then pushed the door wide. The light had been
switched on, but the room was empty. With a nervous
excitement scarcely to be kept in check, he entered, shut and
locked the door, then moved to the wardrobe, and, opening it,
drew the tube of tabloids from the shelf.
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