"They will come out of morbid curiosity," said Hank. "They'll come to the concert to-night, but that's different. You'll be removed from most of 'em. Here they can get near you, prod you and guess what your weight is, look at your teeth an' tell your age; they'll come all right!"
Amongst those present, as the junior reporter hath it, was Mr. Roderick Nape in his private clothes, in other words without disguise. Yet in a sense he was there on business. He wanted to see how these men behaved in public.
He pushed his way through the crowded little room, little knowing that he stalked to his professional doom.
"How do you do?" asked the Duke in his most engaging manner, then he gave a dramatic start and stepped back.
He looked at Hank, then again at Mr. Nape.
"Why, Mr. Nape," stammered the Duke, "you quite startled me."
All eyes were riveted on Mr. Nape, and he enjoyed it.
"What have you been doing to your face!" asked the Duke. It was a rude question, but Mr. Nape saw nothing more significant in the query than a hint of smut, and searched for his handkerchief.
"What have you done with your moustache," asked the Duke reprovingly.
Mr. Nape looked his astonishment.