Any man but myself would have never let her out of his
sight until he had married her, until he had tracked Hamdi and
his myrmidons back to Alexandretta.
"Abduction has happened," I cried wildly. "Between Lingfield
Terrace and Avenue Road she has been caught, thrust into a closed
carriage, gagged and carried God knows where by the wiliest old
thief in Asia. He is the Prefect of Police in Aleppo. His name
is Hamdi Effendi and he is staying at the Hotel Metropole."
The Inspector questioned me. Heaven knows how I answered. I saw
the scene. The waiting carriage. The unfrequented bit of road.
My heart's darling, her face a radiant flower in the grey
morning, tripping lightheartedly along. The sudden dash, the
struggle, the swiftly closed door. It was a matter of a few
seconds. My brain grew dizzy with the vision.
"You say that he threatened to abduct her?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes," said I, "and a friend of mine promised to kill him.
Heaven grant he keep his promise!"
"Be careful, Sir Marcus," smiled the Inspector.
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