Edgar Wallace

“ Most of all he hated Sandford, the man who could have saved him. He would take the risk of the Four—take his chance with the police. Curiously, he feared the police least of all. One final blow he would strike and break the man whose obstinacy had broken him.
He was mad with anger—he saw nothing but the fulfilment of his plan of revenge. He went into his room, unlocked a cupboard and took out the green bottle. There was no need for the feather, he would do the job thoroughly.
He finished his dressing, pocketed his bank-notes, and slipped the little green bottle into his waistcoat pocket. ”

“ She was talking to the man on her left. Black could see only the rounded cheek and one white shoulder. He waited impatiently.
Sandford tried to bring him into the conversation, but he refused to be drawn. He was content to listen, he said. To listen, to watch and to wait. He saw the slim white fingers close round the stem of the glass, saw her half raise it, still looking towards her partner. Black pushed his chair a little to one side as the glass reached her lips. She drank, not much, but enough. The colonel held his breath. She replaced the glass, still talking with the man on her left. ”

“ In the short space of time he was at the telephone, he arranged the cars so that whatever avenue of escape he was forced to take he would find the vehicles waiting. This done, he completed his dressing. The reaction from the fear had come. He was filled with black hate for the men who had put a period to his career of villainy. ”