“Please,” he said politely, “Would you kin’ly tell me who that man in a bull fighter’s dress is.”
“That’s Lord Merton, dear,” said Helen of Troy kindly. “He’s in the Cabinet. Do you know what that means?”
“Then is there—are there two Toreadors?”
“Yes. The other’s Mr. Jocelyn. He’s a writer, I believe. Nobody important.”
“We’ve took the wrong one,” said William in a hoarse whisper, as he rejoined the Brigands, “There was two.”
“Crumbs!” said the Brigands aghast.
“What we goin’ to do now?” said Ginger.
William was not one to relinquish a task half done. “We’ll have to put this one in an’ let the other out,” he said.
A few minutes later the Toreador came out on to the lawn smoking a cigar.
“If you please,” said a miniature Brigand, who seemed to rise up from the ground at his feet, “Some one wants to see you special. He says he’s a German with a message quite private. He doesn’t want anyone else to know.”