CHAPTER XXVFawley, with his hands thrust into his overcoat pockets and a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth, walked briskly to the corner of Downing Street and paused, looking around for a taxicab, apparently unconscious that he was the cynosure of a dozen pairs of eyes. A private car was waiting by the side of the curbstone, to all appearance unoccupied. Suddenly he felt a grip upon his arm—not the sinister grip of an assailant but the friendly grasp of slender fingers.
“Do not hesitate for one moment, please,” the slim figure by his side insisted. “Step into that car.”
He looked down at her with a smile. He knew very well that he had nothing to fear, for there were shadowy figures hovering around close at hand.
“Am I to be abducted again, Princess?” he asked. “This time I warn you tha
