“Times have changed,” he said. “The harmlessness of your great Society, my dear Baron, is at present admitted. But there were days—”
“Exactly,” Peter interrupted. “As shrewd as ever, I perceive. Do you know anything of the object of his coming?”
“Nothing.”
“Anything of his plans?”
“Nothing.”
“You know where he is staying?”
“Naturally,” Dory answered. “He has taken a second-floor flat in Crayshaw Mansions, Shaftesbury Avenue. As usual, he is above all petty artifices. He has taken it under the name of Monsieur Guillot.”
“I really don’t know whether there is anything I can do,” Peter decided, “but I will look into the matter for you, with pleasure. Perhaps I may be able to bring a little influence to bear—indirectly, of course. If so, it is at your service. Lady Dory is well, I trust?”
“In the best of health,” Sir John replied, accepting the hint and rising to his feet. “I shall hear from you soon?”
“Without a doubt,” Peter answered. “I must certainly call upon Monsieur Guillot.”