Explore "A Secret Service" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Glasgow was asking himself a good many questions as be hailed a loitering taxi and went off towards his rooms. He was doubtful whether he had pursued the proper policy, for he had taken a good many risks in the last hour or so. Could he trust Ida or not? If not, then he had committed a grievous error of judgment, and one which might be fraught with disastrous consequences before long. If, on the other hand, he had been correct in his reading of the girl's character, then he had played a master stroke. He was like a man who had made a large fortune at business and who was now embarking on a fresh enterprise which called for a heavy outlay in the way of advertisement. Still, the thing was done, and he would have to see it through.
It was half-past two before he reached his rooms. The blinds were down, but the electric lights were gleaming in half a dozen offices where his men were at work.