“Over Abbeville,” the second in this remarkable series, includes one of the most unusual and exciting scenes ever described—a fight to the death waged in the narrow cabin of a London-to-Paris passenger plane.
Durant stood at the rail, watching the gleam of the Land’s End light twinkle across the night. The Tyraniawas on the last leg of her voyage; at dawn she would be just off Plymouth, and all those who could change at the last moment would go into the lighter instead of on to Cherbourg, for dirty weather lay ahead of her. Durant had changed, but for other reasons.
A light step, and Durant turned to find the slender figure of Baroness Glincka at his side. Known aboard ship as Mrs. Robinson, her unhappy story was hidden with her name; only Durant knew how her dead husband’s cousin, Boris Makoff, held her gripped in tentacles of blackmail, forcing her to aid his little schemes, making her an unwilling but helpless member of his Paris coterie of genteel crooks. It was for her sake that Durant had wormed his way into this organization, getting the confidence of Makoff—waiting!
“You got the message?” she asked in the darkness.
“Yes, and changed. You’ll get off at Plymouth too?”
“Yes. Boris is planning something at London, before going on. I’m not sure what; but the victim is that white-haired man who keeps to himself. Larson, the name is. Boris introduced him to me tonight, using my real name. He’s a nice old man.”
“And a game’s on, eh?” Durant knew Larson by sight—a stiff, bronzed man with white hair and mustache, and shrewd, kindly old eyes, traveling alone.
“Something. Boris wants you to come into the smoking-room, and meet Larson. I think he’s a Dane who’s made a fortune in America and is taking a trip to Denmark—that’s my guess. I suppose Boris means to wring his neck in London by your help and mine.”
