“All right,” said Jack. “But I do believe it.”
Their supper was now placed before them and the lads fell to with a will, Jack the while casting an occasional glance toward the man he believed to be Count Blowinski.
Frank and Jack finished their meal before the big man—whoever he was—and Frank was for leaving immediately. But Jack protested.
“Maybe the fellow is not Count Blowinski,” he said, “but it will do no harm to make sure. If I could get a look at his face, I believe I would know him whether he was disguised or not.”
“Well, go over and accost him,” said Frank with a smile.
“Not much,” returned Jack; “for if he did happen to be the count there would be an uproar and he might get away. No, we’ll wait here until he goes out and then we’ll follow him.”
“Good night!” said Frank. “Here you are hunting more trouble again. What would Lord Hastings say?”
“I don’t know what he’d say. However, he is not here, so we won’t worry about that. But if you don’t want to come along, I can trail the fellow by myself.”
“Oh, I’ll go along,” said Frank.
It was probably twenty minutes later that the man at the other end of the room rose, called for his hat and coat and made his way from the restaurant. Strain as they would, the lads were unable to catch sight of his face; so they hurried after him.