Читать книгу The Black онлайн

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"How the devil did you know that there was an 'h' in 'honesty?'" asked James Morlake admiringly.

"I pronounced it, sir," said Binger.

"That is what I mean—now, Binger, listen to me. I want the car at the corner of Albemarle Street at two o'clock. It is raining a little, so have the hood up. Don't be within a dozen yards of the car when I arrive. Have an Oxford number-plate behind and the Sussex plate under the seat. A vacuum flask with hot coffee and a packet of sandwiches—and that's all."

Binger, at the parting of the curtains, struggled to express what he felt was improper and even sinful to say.

"Good luck, sir," he said faintly.

"I wish you meant it," said James Morlake as he rose and, catching up the long black coat from the divan, slipped pistol and tools into his pocket....

At the Burlington Street Safe Deposit, the night watchman had a stool on which he might sit in the lone long watches. It was a stool with one leg in the centre, and had this great advantage, that, if its occupant dozed, he fell. Nature, however, evolves qualities to meet every human emergency, and in the course of the years the night watchman, by leaning his elbow on a projecting ledge and stiffening his body against the wall, could enjoy a comfortable condition of coma that approximated to sleep....