Felix smiled slightly.
“It is quite true,” he said. “Labanoff makes no mistakes, and he saw him come out of his house, take his ticket at King’s Cross, and actually leave the station.”
“Are you sure that it is not a blind?” the Prince asked incredulously.
Felix shook his head.
“It is quite true, your Excellency,” he said. “If you knew the man as well as I do, you would not be surprised. He is indeed a very extraordinary person—he does these sort of things. Besides, he wants to keep out of the way.”
The Prince’s face darkened.
“He will find my way a little hard to get out of,” he said fiercely. “Go and get some dinner, Felix, and then try and find out whether Knigenstein has any notion of leaving England. He will not trust a matter like this to correspondence. Stay—I know how to manage it. I will write and ask him to dine here next week. You shall take the invitation.”
“He will be at Arlington Street,” Felix remarked.
“Well, you can take it on to him there,” the Prince directed. “Go first to his house and ask for his whereabouts. They will tell you Arlington Street. You will not know, of course, the contents of the letter you carry; your instructions were simply to deliver it and get an answer. Good! you will do that.”
The Prince, while he talked, was writing the note.