Come on, Chick!
There's rough work to be done in the next two hours."
CHAPTER XIX.
HANDS SHOWED DOWN.
Spotty Dalton stood at the door of the open carriage when Nick and Chick
emerged from the house, still clad in the character of Hindoos.
"Are you sent here by Mr. Venner?" inquired Nick.
Dalton touched the cloth cap drawn low over his brow, and stroked his
dark, false beard as he replied:
"Yes, sir," said he, half in his throat. "You're the interpreter, I take
it."
"At your service."
"I'm a bit late, but it couldn't be helped. We'll not be long in getting
there."
"Time does not matter to the great Pandu Singe," replied Nick, as he
followed Chick into the open landau. "The night is still long."
"It'll be infernally long for you two meddlers," Dalton grimly said to
himself, as he banged the carriage door and mounted to the box.
Then they rolled rapidly away toward a northern suburb of the city.
The dusk of evening was already deepening to darkness, a gloom more
noticeable far up in the heavens than among the myriad of lights in the
city streets. For not a star was visible in the murky sky, and away in
the west huge banks of inky clouds were sweeping up toward the zenith,
indicating the rapid approach of a sudden storm.
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