“Perhaps he’s gone to have a bath,” I suggested. For it was a very warm night, and running after motor-cars must have been a wet business.
“We’ll see,” said Tarlyon. We retraced our steps up Brook Street, and passed the house into which the occupant of the car had disappeared. It was a house like another, dark and silent; and as it stood almost at the corner we went round the corner into Grosvenor Square; at least, we were rounding the corner when a young man in a great hurry collided into us.
“Ah!” said Tarlyon.
“Sorry,” said the stranger. I was right about the running—it had made his face very wet.
“So it’s you!” said Tarlyon.
“Good-evening, gentlemen,” said the Armenian, with a sort of furious courtesy. “If you will excuse me, I am in a hurry.” He made to pass us.
“We noticed it,” said Tarlyon. “In fact, we noticed nothing else.”
“Damn!” snapped the Armenian. “So you saw me running?”
“So did he,” I murmured, looking up Brook Street. A policeman was sauntering towards us.
“If you don’t want to be asked any questions by the arm of the law,” Tarlyon suggested, “you had better take a turn round the square with us.”