A short woman, with red hair and a self-assertive bust, stared boldly at the colonel and said, “He don't look like his pictures.”
“Say, are you the duke?” asked a messenger-boy.
However, the colonel merely said “Home!” and entered the motor, followed by Mr. Boon and T. Donnelly. The store footman closed the door as if it were made of priceless cut-glass. The traffic policeman touched his cap and the motor went up the Avenue.
The colonel picked up a newspaper from the seat and turned to Mr. Boon.
“See!” he said, “our pictures. Your reporters are—ah!—very enterprising and clever. But the photographers are worse!” He laughed and went on: “The pictures don't look like me, d'ye think?”
“I recognize the coat and the fur cap,” laughed Mr. Boon.
“Oh, do you?” said the colonel, seriously. He looked at it and said: “But it might be my other fur cap, you know. What?” He looked challengingly at the jeweler.
“It might be,” admitted Mr. Boon, diplomatically confessing his error.
“Quite so!” said the owner of the fur cap, triumphantly.
Mr. Boon, finding himself nearer the house of the duke's host, began to feel more confident of putting through the epoch-making deal. It is not often that a New York jeweler sells pearls to an uncle of the King of England, to be used by the king's most beautiful cousin! He would have the princess's photograph in his window. It should show the famous necklace!