DIRECTLY BENEATH John Lymington's office was his garage, once a stables fitted for a coach and four horses. There was thus a lot of room in it, even when the Phantom II stood there hi all its angular dignity. To get into the garage you opened a door at the foot of the stairs up which Lymington had taken his client that night, Lymington was a big man, and not for show. School and university had trained his muscles which laziness had later preserved and as a result he had no trouble at all in carrying the late Mr. Hunt down the stairs, through the door and into the back of the Rolls coupe". That done, he straightened his jacket down, opened the doors from the inside, got into the car and moved it slowly out. Headlights did not show anyone hiding in the shadows of the mews. He came out on to the smooth road where late buses glowed along and the ever open coffee shops stabbed the night with neon and pop music. These grew more frequent as the Rolls drifted into the narrower streets of Soho, then vanished altogether as it came, like a liner into dock, into the last narrow alley where Filson lived.
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