“Extremely subtle,” agreed Zuvor, “but their activities are confined to narrow quarters. I, for instance, am under constant observation. It is not safe for any friend to visit me.”
“Indeed.” Cranston’s tone denoted interest. “That intrigues me. I should like to visit you.”
Prince Zuvor smiled in unfeigned admiration.
“You would be quite welcome,” he said. He handed Cranston a card, bearing the name and address of Richard Albion. “But I warn you. If you come openly to my home, and leave openly, you will be a marked man from then on.”
“They watch you that closely?”
“They do. But I can thwart them.”
“How?”
“My house is one of mystery,” explained Prince Zuvor. “One may be seen going in — yet not seen, leaving.
“Not long ago” — he became reminiscent — “I had a visitor. He was the faithful servant of — of a Russian prince who is now dead. This man was under observation. He could not leave New York, because of the Red agents who were watching him. I enabled him to escape.”
“How?”