“I can provide a certain means of departure,” offered the Russian. “A method whereby you can escape followers — “
Cranston shook his head.
“I do not fear them,” he said. “I doubt that these men will trail me very far. It is worth the experience, at least.”
The prince rang for Ivan, and the Russian servant escorted the millionaire to the front door.
Lamont Cranston stepped forth into the darkness of the night. He walked a few paces; then observed a taxicab, and hailed it. As he rode away, the millionaire glanced up at the house of Prince Zuvor. The front of the building was totally dark.
But the curtains were no longer drawn on the second floor, although that fact was not discernible from the street.
Prince Zuvor had extinguished the light in his room. He was watching the departing cab; and as it went into motion, he saw a car move from the opposite curb, swerving outward, as though in pursuit.
Prince Zuvor closed the curtains. He turned on a light in the room. His face was grim, and his lips moved as though he was talking to himself. Ivan entered. The prince’s face assumed its accustomed calm.
“Ivan,” said Zuvor in Russian, “that man is our friend. You must receive him as a friend — when he comes here again.”
Then, as an afterthought, he added, in English: