"I'm sorry," Stevie said, "but I've got to get going. I hope to see you again, Your Grace. So long, Dad—and thanks."
"So long, son," I said. "Take it easy."
His car moved off down the street, gathering speed.
"Fine boy you have there," the Duke said.
"Thanks. Shall we go on with our pub crawling?"
"Let's."
By two o'clock in the morning, we had heard nothing, found nothing. The Duke looked tired, and I knew that I was.
"A few hours sleep wouldn't hurt either one of us," I told His Grace. "It's a cinch that Nestor won't be able to find any little girls at this hour of the morning, and I have a feeling that he probably bought himself a bottle and took it up to his room with him."
"You're probably right," the Duke said wearily.