Free Get Wallace! by Alexander Wilson Page B

journey. He lay back in the well-upholstered seat, lit his pipe, and gave himself up to reflection. The latter did not last very long, however. For some minutes Sir Leonard’s eyes had been fixed, at first casually, afterwards alertly, on his chauffeur’s back. The well-tuned car was running smoothly through Herne Hill when he chuckled softly to himself.
    ‘Really,’ he murmured, ‘these people depend a lot upon impersonation. But I wonder what they have done with Johnson!’

CHAPTER SIX
Cousins is Trapped
    Cousins, sitting by the side of the man he had imagined to be Captain Hugh Shannon, had had no suspicion for some considerable time that he had fallen into a trap. The car was driven rapidly along the road leading to the bridge crossing over to the Isle of Sheppey, and the driver scarcely uttered a word. Cousins’ numerous questions either went unheeded or were replied to with grunts or in monosyllables. At length the little man had grown exasperated.
    ‘Look here, Hugh,’ he exclaimed, ‘this is ridiculous. We are alone in a car; there doesn’t appear to be a soul within miles of us; surely now is the time to spill the beans. Why all the mystery?’
    ‘You’ll know before long,’ grunted the other.
    Something in the tone of voice caused Cousins to start. With a gasp he quickly turned his eyes on his companion, striving to pierce the darkness, examine the other’s features. But all he couldsee was the dim outline of a face that certainly looked like that of Shannon. Yet he began to have doubts. The clever impersonation of the Air-Marshal and General Warrington recurred to his mind. Perhaps he had also been taken in. He had not had a perfect view of the man. Even when he had been standing under the lamp in the station, the latter’s face had been in shadow; nevertheless Cousins had seen it clearly enough not to be deceived; besides the figure, the voice, even the walk had been so typical, and he had known Shannon for years, had worked with him, been in daily, hourly contact with him. But the doubt persisted. He hardly knew what had caused it. And, like most doubts, it momentarily grew stronger.
    It certainly was curious that Shannon should suddenly appear on the scene. Of course he may have been recalled, but, if so, surely Major Brien would have said something about it. Shannon may have returned of his own accord, bringing home information that could not be trusted to the usual channels, and incidentally have arrived in time to hear news which had reached Major Brien after Cousins had left him. News which it was important he, Cousins, should know. Shannon had been sent down by car to inform him; the man by his side had hinted as much. That seemed reasonable enough. Knowing that Cousins was not travelling down by train till late, but unaware of the actual time, the other had decided to meet the London trains. There another doubt assailed the little man. Surely, if this man was Shannon, he would have looked along the row of coaches, searching for his colleague, instead of standing aloof apparently taking no interest in the arrival of the train.
    It was at this point in his reflections that the Secret Service man became certain that he had been trapped, that the man by his sidewas an impostor. The other had hinted that it was unwise to be seen, yet had been standing under a lamp, showing himself off to anybody who cared to look in his direction. And the reason he had been standing in such an ostentatious position suddenly became obvious. Suspecting that a member of the Secret Service might appear in the neighbourhood to investigate, a man made-up like one of them – apparently the people he was in search of were well acquainted with certain of his companions – had been stationed on the platform of Sittingbourne station in the hope that the investigator would recognise him, thereby giving himself away. And Cousins had obliged.
    ‘Fool!’ he muttered to himself. ‘You’ll never be able to lift up your head