"And he led me to a cross street, where he vanished into an empty-looking place with a big 'For Sale' sign across the front of it.
"I got that number all right? and now, with the number you have, I think we're on our way to get our friend Ali's number. What do you think about it?"
We wasted no more time in imagining what we were going to get? but set out at once to get it.
The MeRay cottage was exactly the sort of place in which nothing more exciting than the daily five o'clock tea should find its setting. I turned as we drove up in the taxi which the sudden need of haste had made us feel we must take, wild screams of the air, and the first to greet us is we started up the path was a uniformed policeman, who turned into the gate just ahead of us.
Without stopping to analyze my feeling, I rushed up the path after Jimmy and the policeman. The door of the cottage stood open. We entered the broad hall and followed the sound of the so-called "room" in every sense of the worst cases of books lined the wall from floor to ceiling.
The French windows were closed and the curtains drawn. The air was almost stilling. And in one corner of the room a strange group was huddled.
On the floor lay the body of a military-looking man of between fifty and sixty. His face was set in an ugly sneer - it portrayed utter hatred and something of terror.
Above the body stood a man of between fifty and sixty.  irt :cl (Eiml. 