“What d’you mean?” Sumecta said.
“Two pins. There was going to be bashing.”
“You’re a funny dog, aren’t you?” Sumecta said. He edged away from Sard but kept his eyes upon him. He had the flash cock to his hat, a mouth with a tooth gone and a swollen nose. He edged away with his eyes on Sard till he was off the Plaza and going down the stair. Sard edged his chair a little round so that he might follow Sumecta as he went. When Sumecta was out of sight Sard swiftly and silently stepped aside in case Sumecta should rush back for a sudden shot. But no shot came, Sumecta was gone: his steps were dying away. Sard was alone again.
Being alone, he stepped swiftly to where the glimmering thing had dropped into the gutter. As he had expected, it was a door key: he picked it up. “If he had been reasonably polite,” he said to himself, “he should have had it. As it is, he shall do without it. And now, if I’m to be at the palace at seven I had better be off to turn in.”
He had pocketed the key and turned to the head of the stair on his way to bed, when he heard someone hurrying to the stair-foot. For the moment, he judged that it was Sumecta come back to shoot him, but a glance showed that it was a much younger, slighter man. He came running up the stairs, looked about the Plaza for someone, and hailed Sard with: “Oh, your Excellency?” It was Hilary Kingsborough.
“His Excellency has gone, Mr. Kingsborough,” Sard said. “He has been gone about half an hour.”
“Curse,” the young man said. “But who are you who know my name? O, you are the Mr. What’s-his-name, who warned me that night. Where has His Excellency gone, do you know?”
“Back to the palace to bed.”
“Curse. They told me there that I should find him here. I’ve been hunting for him and just missing him ever since I landed at ten o’clock. I must find him.”
Sard was struck by the high, shrill, feverish excitement of the young man’s speech; his face was gaunt and burning: his body wasted.