The quelling force of his ferocious
personality achieved its purpose, as it rarely failed to do.
"I'm getting in," added the Chief Inspector, jumping back on to
the pavement. "Lose that French bus, and I'll charge you with
resisting and obstructing an officer of the law in the execution
of his duty. Start."
Kerry leaped in and banged the door--and the Rolls-Royce started.
II
AT MALAY JACK'S
When Kerry left Bond Street the mistiness of the night was
developing into definite fog. It varied in different districts.
Thus, St. Paul's Churchyard had been clear of it at a time when
it had lain impenetrably in Trafalgar Square. When, an hour and
a half after setting out in the commandeered Rolls-Royce, Kerry
groped blindly along Limehouse Causeway, it was through a yellow
murk that he made his way--a vapour which could not only be seen,
smelled and felt, but tasted.
He was in one of his most violent humours. He found some slight
solace in the reflection that the impudent chauffeur, from whom
he had parted in West India Dock Road, must experience great
difficulty in finding his way back to the West End.
"Damn the fog!" he muttered, coughing irritably.
It had tricked him, this floating murk of London; for, while he
had been enabled to keep the coupe in view right to the fringe of
dockland, here, as if bred by old London's river, the fog had
lain impenetrably.
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