Soane, unsteady of leg and talkative, was now making for Third Avenue beside Freund, who had taken him by the arm, in hopes, apparently, of steadying them both.
As Renoux and Barres followed, the latter cautiously requested any instructions which Renoux might think fit to give.
Renoux said in his cool, agreeable voice:
“You know it’s rather unusual for an officer to bother personally with this sort of thing. But my people—even the renegade Germans in our service—have been unable to obtain necessary information for us in regard to Grogan’s.
“It happened this afternoon that certain information was brought to me which suggested that I myself take a look at Grogan’s. And that is what I 262 was going to do when I saw you on the street, carefully stalking two well-known suspects.”
They both laughed cautiously.
Grogan’s was now in sight on the corner, its cherrywood magnificence and its bilious imitation of stained glass aglow with electricity. And into its “Family Entrance” swaggered Soane, followed by the lank figure of Max Freund.
Renoux and Barres had halted fifty yards away. Neither spoke. And presently came to them a short, dark, powerfully built man, who strolled up casually, puffing a large, rank cigar.
Renoux named him to Barres:
“Emile Souchez, one of my men.” He added: “Anybody gone in yet?”