For instance, even a Duke starting forth at 2.30 to catch the 2.20 from Charing Cross is hardly likely to succeed, unless he performs one of those miracles of which one hears in the course of destructive and pessimistic parliamentary debate, to wit: put back the hands of time.
There was time to shop and time to reflect. Time also to wire to the sedate Cole and give instructions for the management of the house during the Duke's absence. It gave Mr. Bill Slewer time also to discover the Duke's plans—the Duke's instructions to Cole had included a counsel of frankness as to his whereabouts.
The party left London by the nine o'clock train—that same "Continental," that Hank had "flagged"—and the crossing from Dover to Calais was a pleasant one to Tuppy's infinite relief. They arrived in Paris before daybreak, and idled away that day and the next. The Tanneurs were in Paris, if report was true. The work of investigation was to be divided.
"You do the magazins, Tuppy," said the Duke, "if you hang round the shopping centre you are pretty sure to spot 'em."
The Duke haunted the Louvre, Hank systematically went through the hotel lists. Tuppy, after spending ten minutes examining the contents of a jeweller's shop window in the Rue de la Paix, came back to the hotel thoroughly exhausted.
By accident they learnt that the Tanneurs had gone on to Madrid, and there was a wild rush to catch the Sud Express. They caught it by the narrowest of margins. At Bordeaux, Tuppy got out to buy some French papers: by the merest chance met a man he knew; exchanged greetings and inquiries, spoke rudely of the dowager ... the Sud Express was half-way to the border before Tuppy realized that he ought to have been on it....
Accordingly there was a day lost at Biarritz where the chafing Duke waited for Tuppy to catch up.
In Madrid, they had no difficulty in finding out that the Tanneurs had arrested their progress at Avila.
Back to the walled city dashed the adventurers. As their train came clanging into the station, the south bound express drew out and the Duke caught a glimpse of Alicia's slim figure standing at the window of a saloon—and swore. They returned to Madrid the same night, by a train that stopped at every station, and sometimes between stations. It discharged them, weary, bedraggled and extremely cross, at the Medina in the middle of the night.
Hank alone of the trio was imperturbable. Nothing shook the nerves or disturbed the serenity of the American. His inevitable cigar between his teeth, he surveyed the chill desolation of the dreary terminus with bland benevolence.