CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH CHECK PROVES TO BE CHECKMATE When Desmond came to his senses he was propped up in a limousine that was slowly threading a broad street crowded with trams and other traffic. The Chief was at his side and, on the opposite seat, Francis with the girl whose pale face, dark eyes, and glossy black hair were vaguely familiar. With a bewildered expression the young man looked from one face to the other. “Where am I?” “You’re in the Mile End Road, old man, going home,” said his brother, patting him on the knee. “An…