1
Nude in Mink
by Sax Rohmer
New York: Fawcett - Gold Medal Original
1950
Chapter One
1
"DON'T turn. Don't stop. This is Maitland behind you. Just go right ahead. Tell me where you live and stand by to let me in the moment I get there."
Mark Donovan didn't turn, and he didn't stop; he went straight on through the darkness of a foggy night. He had recognised that tense voice. The speaker was Dr. Steel Maitland right enough--whom he had last seen in Cairo! But his heart began to beat a shade faster when he spoke: Maitland was no more than a pace to the rear.
"One-twenty-three Bruton Street. First floor. Walk straight up."
"Expect me any time, Donovan. Don't fail."
He had an impression that Maitland had fallen back but Donovan pressed on. His brain became a whirligig. The vapoury masses about him which were Bond Street whispered menaces. What, in reason's name, had happened to Maitland? Why must he not stop, but go right ahead?
There was little traffic when, crossing, he continued on his way. The blanket-like hush of foggy London had become in a moment a mysterious hush, an ominous hush: it bore down upon him. That rara avis (in fog) a taxi, passed every now and again; pedestrians materialised out of yellow shadow, phantoms preceded by the glow of a cigarette, and merged into shadow again.
He grew conscious of distrust. Amongst these ships that passed in the night some might be enemies.
Bruton Street, former abode of fashion, sounded empty right to Berkeley Square. Donovan's footsteps hollowly disturbed a ghostly silence where, once, dance bands had played, s