"Will ten o'clock do?"
"Yes."
"I'll be there," said Harleston.
XVII
IN THE TAXI
At ten o'clock Harleston walked into Ranleigh's office.
"I just wish to ask," said the Major, "if you want us to pick up the man
who met Mrs. Spencer this afternoon. It's against your orders, I know,
but this chap can be arrested without resulting complications, I think.
He's an American."
"Who is he?" Harleston asked.
"Snodgrass, an ex-Captain in the Army; a man of seeming independent
means, who lives at the Boulogne."
"I'm acquainted with him," returned Harleston. "I can't think that he's
crooked. I reckon Spencer's figure and face attracted him--or probably
he has known her in Europe."
"I'm only giving you the facts: he's the first man, other than those of
her entourage, that she has met since we've had her under surveillance.
It was at Union Station, this afternoon. She went there alone, after
loitering for an hour through the shops of F Street. In the train-shed
she chanced, seemingly by the veriest accident, upon Snodgrass. He
almost bumped into her as they rounded the news-stand. From their gaiety
they are old acquaintances; and after a word he turned and accompanied
her to the cab-stand and put her in a taxi.
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