"What do you mean?"
"Well—if he can leave you—here——?"
"Why, he's here somewhere, looking for Mr. Bingham-Booker. He's routing about in those queer saloons and places."
"And you?"
"I'm keeping my eye on the Casino. It's my fault he got away. You can't always tell when it's best to give him his head and when it isn't. I ought to have let him have that whiskey and soda. Do you see either of them?"
He looked round. "I think," he said, "I see Mr. Tarbuck."
She followed his gaze. Not five yards from them, planted on the pavement as if he grew there, was Mr. Tarbuck. His large back was turned to them with an expression at once ostentatious and discreet. Thesiger had the idea that it had been there for some considerable time, probably ever since his own appearance. Mr. Tarbuck's back said plainly that, though Mr. Tarbuck neither looked nor listened, that he would scorn the action, yet he was there, at his friend's service if she wanted him.
"I'm afraid," said Roma Lennox, "he hasn't found him."
"He doesn't seem to be looking."
(He didn't.)