“may i take my jelly tart with me?” lord salisbury asked the widow.
“yes, but not the tea, we don’t want you spilling it all over - “
the ground began to shake more violently, and a hissing sound filled the air…….
the next thing snively knew he was in the back seat of the motorcar as it was bouncing crazily along the dark road heading directly for the blasted heath. the ground beneath the road continued to shake.
chancellor bismarck shared the back seat with snively, and was maintaining an attitude of stoic teutonic calm.
the widow was driving. lord salisbury sat beside her in the front seat. he, too, seemed to be maintaining a calm exterior, or at least keeping silent, as the vehicle jolted along.
“what is going on?’ snively cried. “is it an earthquake? where are bickenden and chitworth? have we passed them?”
none of his three fellow passengers deigned to answer him.
suddenly lights were visible up ahead, apparently in the middle of the road.
“what the devil is that?” lord salisbury growled.
“it appears to be a roadblock of some kind,” the widow replied, and reduced the speed of the motorcar.
“a roadblock in an earthquake?” growled bismarck. “what foolery is this?”
it was indeed a roadblock, with wooden sawhorses placed across the road, illuminated by smoky fires from a couple of small oil drums.
the widow caused the car to glide to a stop, and a couple of uniformed men approached out of the shadows.
one was wearing the uniform of a royal canadian mountie, the other of a french foreign legionnaire.
lord salisbury addressed the legionnaire, who was coming up to the passenger side with a bayonet at the ready.
“what the deuce is going on here? do you know who i am? “ as he spoke, the ground shook again, and snively was thrown against the back of the front seat.
it was the mountie, leaning into the car from the driver’s side, who replied. “we know all too well who you are, lord salisbury. may i ask you to get out of the car, please.”
“what cheek! i’ll be damned if i will.”
“i rather think you will,” the mountie replied evenly, as the legionnaire stuck his bayonet into the passenger side window, a few inches from lord salisbury’s face.
“i have someone i would like you to meet,” the mountie continued. “get out of the car, please, slowly - though with your unseemly bulk i suppose you can hardly do otherwise - and no tricks.”
“no tricks, eh?” lord salisbury muttered ominously, but he got out of the car as instructed.
the mountie opened the driver’s side door, and the widow also stepped out.
a figure emerged from the shadows. a man in a belted overcoat, with a slouch hat over his eyes, and his hands in a familiar pose nonchalantly holding the lapels of the coat.
it was mr balfour!
“arthur!” exclaimed lord salisbury. “what is going on here?”
“what is going on, my dear uncle,” balfour replied languidly. “is that you are being arrested.”
“arrested? what rot! and for what, may i ask?”
mr balfour ignored lord salisbury’s question, and turned to the widow, who was now standing iin front of the motorcar. “i don’t believe, my lord, that you have been properly introduced to this young lady. permit me to introduce mademoiselle margaretha zelle - otherwise known as mata hari.”
“mata hari!” but lord salisbury was only momentarily discomfited. “that is all very well, but what is this about my being arrested? for what, eh? for plotting to overthrow the empire, i suppose?”
“the empire? no, for plotting the overthrow of civilization itself, and razing its very foundations to the ground!”
“what bosh! and do i have any confederates in this grand scheme?”
“indeed you do, my dear kinsman, indeed you do. i accuse you of being in league with the archfiend, revolutionary, and bandit - kobra!”
“kobra!”
the salesman awoke. it was still dark, he was in his bed in the inn, and rain and wind lashed the little window above his head.
but what was all that noise downstairs? what was going on?
“kobra!” he heard someone cry.
No comments:
Post a Comment