IT HAD BEEN agreed that it would be best for Irene to sit behind. She would be less conspicuous herself, and Kindell would have the appearance of driver rather than companion. He looked back over his shoulder to ask, "Can you describe the house, so that I can approach it without hesitation?"
"Yes. It is the second on the left of a row which have flights of steps in front, and porticos with white pillars. You'll see it easily."
"Steps? You think you'll manage alone?"
"I call that rude. If Father heard you, there'd be an international incident. What do you think American girls are?"
"What are they? Hydraulic cranes . . .? You promise you won't go in?"
"Well - not unless we agree I shall."
"How do you propose to consult me, while I'm in the car?"
"If they press me to go in to change the cases inside, I shall say, 'Very well, but I must tell my chauffeur to wait,' and I'll run back to you; and if things look fishy I'll hop in, and we'll drive away."
"Yes. That ought to - sit back, so that you can't be seen from the house. CFS4602. Can you remember that? Can you write it down? . . . I know this isn't the house. . . . Have you got that number? . . . Number 4602. . . . Yes, that's right. But it's most likely a fake."
"You're going to follow it?"
"I'm going to try. It isn't easy in London streets. Not without giving the game away. Particularly not in this car, if they know only half of what they probably do. But we'll do what we can.
The abrupt change in the tenor of this conversation had taken place as they had turned into the square, and Kindell had driven the car up to the pavement fifty yards before that at which he had been directed to stop. He had done this at the sight of a low grey car standing before Mrs. Collinson's gate, and a man descending her steps carrying what, by an easy guess, was the suitcase which Thurlow had stuffed with stone.
Kindell thought hard, as he followed the grey car into Mostyn Road. He said: "Listen, Irene. We've got to pull this off, or we shall be almost back where we were, and your father'll get most of the blame. Gustav's going to stick it out that I really did send the valise to you, more likely than not, and you can see where we shall be."
"We shall be through the windscreen more likely than not, if you keep driving like that."
"Sorry. It couldn't be helped. Got any money?"
"Yes. Three or four pounds. Why?"
"That ought to do. The next time I slow down at the traffic lights, I want you to slip out, so that they won't see you. Stop the first taxi you can, and follow me. Tell your driver to follow the grey car. As soon as I see you've taken up the chase, I shall turn off. I've got to get the police on the alert. That car can move, and even if we can't keep it in sight, I don't mean it to get away.
"But if you can keep on its track till it delivers the case, I want you to drop out then, get the nearest call-box, ring up Scotland Yard, ask for Mr. Allenby - you'll find you'll be put through at once - and report to him. Dell your driver to keep on following the car, and not to lose sight of it till it's gone to earth somewhere where it's clear that it's putting up. Give him plenty, and tell him there'll be five pounds more for him when he calls at Scotland Yard, if he shows that he's got some brains. Have you got all that clear?"
"Yes. I think so. Mr. Allenby. Scotland Yard. Is that right?"
"Yes. Now, out you go."
Next moment, he was alone.
So far, the grey car had not been hard to follow. It was heading east, and there was nothing erratic in its course, nor any other evidence that its occupants were aware that they were followed. It was not going specially fast, and the traffic lights had been opportune for pursuit. So they were once again, as they enabled Kindell to close the intervening distance, so that there was nothing between them but a hooded van which concealed him effectually; and just as the red light changed a taxi drew up beside him. From it, Irene waved him farewell as it moved forward, and he delayed a second to note its number before taking-the leftward turn.
Well, he must hope that she would have the luck to keep the swifter car under observation! But he was not depending upon that, or he would have kept the pursuit in his own hands. Within two minutes he was in a police telephone booth, and giving the information which would cast a swift net round the whole area within which the grey car must still certainly be. "They'll be lucky indeed," he thought, "if they put on enough speed to get away from Irene, and avoid the notice of the police."
But the voice of authority, which had directed him to hold on while it issued the orders which the occasion required, was now speaking again, "So you've still got the valise?"
"Yes."
"That's a pity."
"There was no possible time to deliver it, without losing sight
"Yes. I see that. It's a pity, all the same."
"Shall I go back, and do it now?"
"You've never met Mrs. Collinson?"
"No."
"Well, it's a risk. But it may be the best way. The drugs are of no use in our hands."
"They're bound to see the contents of the other one now."
"No, they're not. We may pick up whoever's got it before he has a chance to open it. If he does, they'll be puzzled as to what it means, especially if they have the right one handed over - and he mayn't have a chance to let Blinkwell know."
Kindell saw that there was sense in this argument. The fact was that the valise was of little use while it remained in their hands. Even against Gustav, it was not decisive evidence unless he could be proved to have known what it contained. To get it into the hands of those for whom it had been intended, and to arrest them after it had been opened, and when they were knowingly handling its illicit contents - it was at that they must aim, and, thinking this, he observed again how far from helpful the ambassador's action had been. But it was fair to him to remember that he had acted under a radical misconception of the position.
Anyway, his course was clear now. The only risk he could see was that he might encounter Myra, as Irene had done before and, as he correctly guessed the position to be, the improbability of that was extreme. And he was no longer acting without official support, or actually against instructions, as he had done more than once in the last forty-eight hours. He went back to the car, and drove rapidly to Mrs. Collinson's residence.