The Angel of Terror | Page 5

had no umbrella--she never carried one to the theatre--and nothing
more substantial in the shape of a weapon than a fountain pen. She
could smash the windows with her foot. She sat back in the seat, and
discovered that it was not so easy an operation as she had thought. She
hesitated even to make the attempt; and then the panic sense left her,
and she was her own calm self again. She was not being abducted.
These things did not happen in the twentieth century, except in
sensational books. She frowned. She had said almost the same thing to
somebody that day--to Mrs. Morgan, who had hinted at a romantic
marriage. Of course, nothing was wrong. The driver had called her by
name. Probably the editor wanted to see her at his home, he lived
somewhere in South London, she remembered. That would explain
everything. And yet her instinct told her that something unusual was
happening, that some unpleasant experience was imminent.
She tried to put the thought out of her mind, but it was too vivid, too
insistent.
Again she tried the door, and then, conscious of a faint reflected glow
on the cloth-lined roof of the cab, she looked backward through the
peep-hole. She saw two great motor-car lamps within a few yards of the

cab. A car was following, she glimpsed the outline of it as they ran past
a street standard.
They were in one of the roads of the outer suburbs. Looking through
the window over the driver's shoulder she saw trees on one side of the
road, and a long grey fence. It was while she was so looking that the car
behind shot suddenly past and ahead, and she saw its tail lights moving
away with a pang of hopelessness. Then, before she realised what had
happened, the big car ahead slowed and swung sideways, blocking the
road, and the cab came to a jerky stop that flung her against the window.
She saw two figures in the dim light of the taxi's head lamps, heard
somebody speak, and the door was jerked open.
"Will you step out, Miss Beale," said a pleasant voice, and though her
legs seemed queerly weak, she obliged. The second man was standing
by the side of the driver. He wore a long raincoat, the collar of which
was turned up to the tip of his nose.
"You may go back to your friends and tell them that Miss Beale is in
good hands," he was saying. "You may also burn a candle or two
before your favourite saint, in thanksgiving that you are alive."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said the driver sulkily. "I'm
taking this young lady to her office."
"Since when has the Daily Megaphone been published in the ghastly
suburbs?" asked the other politely.
He saw the girl, and raised his hat.
"Come along, Miss Beale," he said. "I promise you a more comfortable
ride--even if I cannot guarantee that the end will be less startling."
Chapter III
The man who had opened the door was a short, stoutly built person of
middle age. He took the girl's arm gently, and without questioning she
accompanied him to the car ahead, the man in the raincoat following.

No word was spoken, and Lydia was too bewildered to ask questions
until the car was on its way. Then the younger man chuckled.
"Clever, Rennett!" he said. "I tell you, those people are super-humanly
brilliant!"
"I'm not a great admirer of villainy," said the other gruffly, and the
younger man, who was sitting opposite the girl, laughed.
"You must take a detached interest, my dear chap. Personally, I admire
them. I admit they gave me a fright when I realised that Miss Beale had
not called the cab, but that it had been carefully planted for her, but still
I can admire them."
"What does it mean?" asked the puzzled girl. "I'm so confused--where
are we going now? To the office?"
"I fear you will not get to the office to-night," said the young man
calmly, "and it is impossible to explain to you just why you were
abducted."
"Abducted?" said the girl incredulously. "Do you mean to say that
man----"
"He was carrying you into the country," said the other calmly. "He
would probably have travelled all night and have left you stranded in
some un-get-at-able place. I don't think he meant any harm--they never
take unnecessary risks, and all they wanted was to spirit you away for
the night. How they came to know that we had chosen you baffles me,"
he said. "Can you advance any theory, Rennett?"
"Chosen me?" repeated the startled girl. "Really, I feel I'm entitled to
some explanation, and if you don't mind, I would like you to take