Luigi's face, when he met the Parkers and myself at the entrance of the restaurant, was a study. His polite bow and smile of welcome seemed suddenly frozen on his face as his eyes fell upon Mr. Moss. Mr. Moss was still wearing his hat, which was a black bowler with a small brim, set at a jaunty angle a little on one side and affording a liberal view of his black curls underneath. His linen failed completely to stand the test of the clear, soft light of the restaurant, and one might have been excused for entertaining certain doubts with regard to the diamond pin in his mauve tie and the ring that flashed from his not overwhite hand as he tardily removed his headgear.
"Bit of all right—this place!" Mr. Moss remarked, handing his hat to
Luigi. "Who'll have a short one with me before we feed?"
Luigi passed the hat from the tips of his fingers to a subordinate. He showed us a table quite silently, handed the menu over to a maître d'hôtel and promptly departed. Looking round a little nervously I could see him gazing at us from his sanctum over the top of the blind!
"Mr. Moss, I see, has American tastes," Mr. Parker declared. "He likes an apéritif before dinner. Leave it to me, please."
Mr. Parker ordered a somewhat extensive dinner. Throughout the meal we listened to a series of adventures in which the hero was always Mr. Moss. We heard of wonderful hauls and wonderful escapes; detectives outwitted— exploits that reminded me more of the motor bandits of Paris than of our own sober capital.
Mr. Parker's attention never flagged. Halfway through the meal Mr. Moss suddenly put down his knife and fork. He broke off in the middle of a fascinating narration of an episode during which he had ju-jutsued one detective, knocked another down, locked them both in an empty room, and strolled away with a cigar abstracted from the case of one of them and his pockets full of uncut emeralds. With his mouth open he was gazing fixedly across the room. There was a considerable change in his tone.
"'Ware 'tec'!" he said sharply.
We all looked in the direction he indicated, and we all recognized Mr. Cullen, who was apparently returning with interest our observation. I saw a grim smile upon his lips as he disappeared for a moment behind the menu card. For a man who had in his time treated detectives in such a cavalier way, Mr. Moss' change of color and subdued manner was a little extraordinary. He cheered up, however, after a little while.
"Our friend Cullen," Mr. Parker murmured, "seems to have taken quite a fancy to this restaurant."
"Used to be on my lay," Mr. Moss remarked. "He's much too big a duke now for the street, though. They say he gets nearly all the high-class forgery and swindling cases."