The Secret Adversary

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The reply was reassuring.

"Sure. I'll hustle."

The telephone rang off. Tommy put back the receiver with a sigh of
relief. His opinion of Julius's power of hustling was high. He felt
instinctively that the American would arrive in time.

Whittington and Boris were still where he had left them. If Boris
remained to see his friend off, all was well. Then Tommy fingered his
pocket thoughtfully. In spite of the carte blanche assured to him, he
had not yet acquired the habit of going about with any considerable sum
of money on him. The taking of the first-class ticket to Bournemouth
had left him with only a few shillings in his pocket. It was to be hoped
that Julius would arrive better provided.

In the meantime, the minutes were creeping by: 3.15, 3.20, 3.25, 3.27.