“Yes, yes,” cried the young man, and, in his eagerness to convince the Inspector, he stepped forward, until his face fell within the range of the passage light. As this happened, the Inspector gave a loud cry.
“Hallo, Joe Simpson!” And he sprang at the young man. The latter did not wait for him: without a word he turned; the Inspector rushed forward, the young man made for the Heath, and the driver, after standing for a moment apparently bewildered, faced about, and made off in the opposite direction to that chosen by his companion. The three were thirty yards away before the Duke of Belleville could realise what had happened. Then he perceived that he stood in the passage of the Inspector’s house, alone save for the presence of the young lady, who faced him with an astonished expression on her pretty countenance.
“It is altogether a very remarkable night,” observed the Duke.
“It is impossible that you should be more puzzled than I am,” said the young lady.
“Excuse me,” said the Duke, “but you run very well.”
“I belonged to my college football club,” said the young lady modestly.
“Precisely!” cried the Duke. “I suppose this door leads to our good friend’s parlour. Shall we sit down while you tell me all about it? I must ask you to excuse the condition of my feet.”
Thus speaking, the Duke led the way into the Inspector’s parlour. Placing the Queen Bess flagon on the table, he invited the lady to be seated, and took a chair himself. Perceiving that she was somewhat agitated, he provided her with an interval in which to regain her composure by narrating to her the adventures of the evening. She heard him with genuine astonishment.
“Do you say that you are the Duke of Belleville?” she cried.
“Don’t I look like it?” asked the Duke, smiling, but at the same time concealing his feet under the Inspector’s dining-table.