But, as it happened, another instrument had been destined to apply that stimulating experience to the manager. As they stepped out of the car opposite “The Safe” a taxicab drew up and Mr Carlyle’s alert and cheery voice hailed them.
“A moment, Max,” he called, turning to settle with his driver, a transaction that he invested with an air of dignified urbanity which almost made up for any small pecuniary disappointment that may have accompanied it. “This is indeed fortunate. Let us compare notes for a moment. I have just received an almost imploring message from the manager to come at once. I assumed that it was the affair of our colonial friend here, but he went on to mention Professor Holmfast Bulge. Can it really be possible that he also has made a similar discovery?”
“What did the manager say?” asked Carrados.
“He was practically incoherent, but I really think it must be so. What have you done?”
“Nothing,” replied Carrados. He turned his back on “The Safe” and appeared to be regarding the other side of the street. “There is a tobacconist’s shop directly opposite?”
“There is.”
“What do they sell on the first floor?”
“Possibly they sell ‘Rubbo.’ I hazard the suggestion from the legend ‘Rub in Rubbo for Everything’ which embellishes each window.”
“The windows are frosted?”
“They are, to half-way up, mysterious man.”