Chapter 5: IV

IV The Adventure of the Radical Candidate You may picture me driving that 40 hp car for all she was worth over the crisp moor roads on that shining May morning; glancing back at first over my shoulder, and looking anxiously to the next turning; then driving with a vague eye, just wide enough awake to keep on the highway. For I was thinking desperately of what I had found in Scudder’s pocketbook. The little man had told me a pack of lies. All his yarns about the Balkans and the Jew-Anar…