Chronicles of the Secret Service by Alexander Wilson Page A

This was most marked in the case of Karen, whose dark eyes grew almost feverish as he found the tramp, despite his drunkenness, a foeman worthy of his steel. The onlookers began to realise that there was more in the game, as played by these two utterly dissimilar beings, than they had thought possible. At last, the concentration of each and the deliberation with which the noughts or crosses were inserted on the slate seemed to indicate this. Karen won the first game, and gave vent to a chuckle of glee. The tramp grunted with disgust; made a remark under his breath that was not audible. The Russian had provided himself with a little sponge with which he rubbed out the filled-in diagram, after he had indicated his win with a short line at the top of the slate. The figure was drawn again. This time thelittle man won, and a line was put to his credit. Thus it went on, sometimes one, sometimes the other winning; each game taking a considerable time to play, because of the thought each man gave to his moves. It became very monotonous to the watchers on the couch. They wondered uneasily why the servant had not entered the room to announce that he had cleaned the car. He seemed to be taking an unconscionable time about it. Both Karen and the tramp appeared totally to have forgotten their existence. At last, as the two finished their tenth game, and the Russian boasted six wins to four, Anstruther touched Sonia on the arm, and rose to his feet.
    ‘I am sorry to interrupt, Mr Karen,’ he observed, ‘but it is time Miss Hardinge and I left. I am sure your servant must have removed the chalk marks from the car by now.’
    The Russian looked up at them and, for the first time, they had actual indication that his friendliness had been assumed. The expression on his face was definitely antagonistic, and Tony became aware of the evil that lurked in his eyes of which Sonia had already spoken.
    ‘There is not the hurry,’ he remarked suavely. ‘Ivan will come at the right time.’
    He turned again to the tramp, who had given no sign of the slightest interest. Appreciating the fact that he and Sonia had been invited into the house for some sinister purpose, but having not the slightest idea what it could be, Anstruther was now deeply incensed with himself. He gripped the girl’s hand protectively.
    ‘I regret having to insist,’ he declared firmly. ‘It is getting late, though. Miss Hardinge and I can let ourselves out without interference with your game. We’ll say goodnight, Mr Karen, and thank you very much for your hospitality.’
    The Russian muttered something in his own language; rose from his chair.
    ‘Wait,’ he commanded harshly. ‘I will go to see Ivan.’
    ‘We’ll come with you,’ asserted Tony, showing quite plainly he objected to the other’s tone.
    For answer Karen walked quickly to the door, opened it, and called along the passage to someone. The tramp took the opportunity of leaning across the table. Again his words came in a whisper that only just reached their ears.
    ‘I’m afraid you’re for it. Don’t know what the fellow wants with you, but you’re going to find out. Of course you’ll be indignant – who wouldn’t – but take care to include me in your annoyance. And trust me to get you out of the hole.’
    ‘How do you know we can trust you?’ came from Sonia who, anxious not to be overheard by the man at the door, did little more than move her lips.
    The tramp understood her, however, and grinned slightly.
    ‘You haven’t any choice,’ he breathed; thereafter he took no further notice of them.
    He was vigorously, though erratically, cleaning the slate, when Karen returned to them. Four men entered the room, and stood behind the hunchback. They formed a villainous-looking quartette and, for the first time, Sonia began to have qualms. One, big and burly, with a bushy fair beard, and hair that stuck up from his head like the quills on a porcupine, possessed the smallest and shiftiest eyes she