Wallace of the Secret Service by Alexander Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

glimpsed the chest in which Henderson had crouched for so long, the table round which the conspirators must have sat, the safe remote in a corner which probably contained the precious book. He had noticed also that there was only one entrance apart from the windows.
    ‘Go and stand close to that door,’ he directed Achmet, ‘and warn me if you hear the slightest sound.’
    Again the brilliant but narrow beam of light stabbed the darkness, indicating to Achmet where to go, and was extinguished as soon as he arrived there. Moving softly, without aid from his torch, Sir Leonard reached the safe. Once more the flashlight came into play as he studied it. Although small it was an essentially modern article, and he drew a deep breath as he eyed the dial. Then he was down on his knees before it, had extinguished the light, and was rubbing the tips of his fingers on the carpet until they glowed and tingled. He had made a study of opening safes soon after joining the Secret Service. It was an art that he had learnt more as a whim than anything else, but it had come in useful more than once. Presently, with his ear pressed against the face of the safe, he was twirling the dial with those sensitive fingers of his.
    The minutes went by, but nothing happened. He felt a bead of perspiration break out upon his forehead, and paused for a moment to wipe it away, smiling grimly to himself when he found that his hand was trembling. Once again set himself to his task; then, at last, he gave vent to a low exclamation. The handle was flung over with a metallic click, and the door opened. Immediately the inquisitive ray of his torch was searching among the masses of papers and cash boxes within, to hold steadily on a small volume bound in red leather. Taking it out he opened it, and eagerly examined the pages. For a moment a sense of disappointment came over him, then he smiled. He could hardly expect to find what he was seeking written in English or French. A whispered command brought Achmet to his side, and the Arab carefully studied page after page.
    ‘It is the book, effendi,’ he declared at last. ‘There are many names here and much information.’
    A deep sigh escaped from Sir Leonard.
    ‘It isn’t written in Arabic, is it?’
    ‘No, Excellency. That is Turkish.’
    ‘I thought so.’
    A moment later the safe was closed and locked, and the two men crept across the room to the window, the book clasped tightly under Wallace’s arm. They were quickly over the balcony, and back in the garden, hurrying towards the gate. Then they stood stockstill, as though rooted to the spot, as a thunderous knocking suddenly broke the stillness.
    ‘Damn!’ swore Sir Leonard softly but fervently.
    Again came the noisy hammering, and he drew Achmet into the deeper darkness of a group of trees.
    ‘Whoever they are, they’ll have the whole household about our ears presently,’ he muttered. ‘Go and let them in, Achmet. You may not rouse their suspicion.’
    He had come to the conclusion that it was better to risk opening the door than to be caught between two fires, with the certainty of a search being made for the gatekeeper.
    The banging had now developed into a continuous rat-a-tat. Achmet hurried to the gate and, hastily unbolting it, threw it open. At once a tall figure strode in, followed by two others. He subjected Achmet to a loud tirade, which Wallace rightly guessed to mean that he was censuring the Arab for his sluggishness. Then, as he was about to pass on, he bent and looked closely into the latter’s face, calling out something sharply to his followers as he did so. Another man appeared with a lamp, which illumined the scene, and threw Achmet’s face into sharp relief. Exclamations of astonishment and wrath broke from all four newcomers, and Wallace, observing that the game was up, broke cover and ran to his subordinate’s assistance, the precious book tucked safely away in his clothing. As he did so two other men came out of the