That's
really about the truth--and I think Miss Wickham and I had better be
seeing the police."
"The very best thing you can do!" responded the manager with alacrity.
"And take my advice and go straight to headquarters--go to New Scotland
Yard. Just think what this woman--and her accomplices--could do! If she
or they had one hour's start of you, they can have already put a good
distance between themselves and London; they can be halfway to Dover, or
Harwich, or Southampton. And therefore--"
"And therefore all the more reason why we should set somebody on their
trail," interrupted Viner, and hurried Miss Wickham out of the manager's
room and away to the taxicab which he had purposely kept in waiting. "I
don't think Mrs. Killenhall, or Killerby, or whatever her name is, will
have hurried away as quickly as all that," he remarked as they sped along
toward Whitehall. "My own idea is that, having got hold of your money,
she'll probably have made for the headquarters of this precious gang, she
and they are sure to have one, for I should say the place in Whitechapel
was only an outpost,--and they'll be better able to arrange an escape
from there than she would to make an immediate flight.
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