At that moment the hall porter touched me on the shoulder. The inevitable note was thrust into my hand.
"I found this on my desk just now, sir," he announced, in answer to my look of enquiry. "Sorry I can't tell you how it got there."
I opened it and read:
You will terminate your engagement at the Crown this evening. Proceed to London to-morrow, where you will find rooms taken for you at the Mayfair Hotel. Accept any offer you may receive of a lift to London, individually or collectively.
I showed Leonard the note, and hurried away to the manager's office. He made no difficulty about letting us go; in fact, I gathered that half the residents in the hotel were hurrying away by motor car, fearing a general confiscation of petrol. He detained me just as I was leaving the room.
"Queer affair, that attempted robbery, Mr. Lister," he remarked.
"Extraordinary," I agreed.
"I notice you people seem quite friendly with Mr. Kinlosti," he continued. "Do you know if it is true that he is related to the late Tsar?"
"I have no idea," I answered. "All that he has told us is that he was a member of the household."
"He may be a nobleman, and I dare say he is," the manager went on, a little nervously, "but I don't care about people at my hotel with a savage manservant like his and half a million pounds' worth of jewels. Bath isn't the place for that sort of thing. My clients like a quiet life."