Others came and asked for Corbett—sharp-featured men with imperials and long moustaches—the interest taken in the man was great, but unrequited. He never appeared.
At last the season ended, the hotel was closed, and the mysterious letter was shot into the dustbin.
CHAPTER XI
THEORIES
Bruce announced his departure from Monte Carlo by a telegram to his valet.
Nevertheless, he did not expect to find that useful adjunct to his small household—Smith and his wife comprised the barrister’s ménage—standing on the platform at Charing Cross when the mail train from the Continent steamed into the station.
Smith, who had his doubts about this sudden trip to the Riviera, was relieved when he saw his master was alone. “Sir Charles Dyke called this afternoon, sir,” he explained. “I told Sir Charles about your wire, sir, and he is very anxious that you should dine with him to-night. You can dress at Portman Square, and if I come with you—”
“Yes; I understand. Bundle everything into a four-wheeler.”