In itself this was enough to
clear up some of my doubts concerning the phantom. His actions
were too simple for an apparition. Only a man would act like that,
and a crude one. I didn't know then the nerve of the Rhamda. There
was no doubt that I was being shadowed.
To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious
route to the station. There was no question; one and two they
followed. I knew the Rhamda; but who was the other?
At the station we purchased tickets, and when the train pulled in
I boarded a smoker. The other two took another coach--the stranger
was a thick-set individual with a stubby, grey moustache. On the
boat I didn't see them; but at the ferry building I made a test to
see that I was followed. I hailed a taxi and gave specific
instructions to the driver.
"Drive slowly," I told him. "I think we shall be followed."
And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging our
wheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerning the Rhamda; but I couldn't
understand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and I
alighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither
stopped. Both disappeared round the corner. I took the numbers;
then I went into the house. In about a half hour a car drew up at
the curb. I stepped to the window. It was the car that had tracked
the Rhamda's. The stubby individual stepped out; without ceremony
he ran up the steps and opened the door.
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