The visitor slunk from the room as though he had been whipped.
The door had scarcely closed upon him when Poiccart called Leon down from his room.
“Son,” he said, “George wants that man trailed.”
Leon peeped out after the retiring victim of Turkish tyranny.
“Not a hard job,” he said. “He has flat feet!”
Poiccart returned to the consulting-room.
“Who is he?” he asked.
“I don’t know. He’s been sent here either by Oberzohn or by friend Newton, the general idea being to bring us all together at the Gringo Club—which is fairly well known to me—on some agreeable evening. A bad actor! He has no tone. I shouldn’t be surprised if Leon finds something very interesting about him.”
“He’s been before, hasn’t he?”
Manfred nodded.