A tall dark man, with a lean intelligent face and a bland smile, seemed to have sprung from nowhere. It was Krantz. He continued smoothly:
“I would strongly recommend you both to go home. You know, gentlemen, we don’t want trouble in the Principality. Peace, perfect peace is our ideal. Be advised, messieurs: go home.”
Paul Vulning’s jaw had dropped, and he was staring at Krantz with a look that was half fascination, half fear. Then with a glower of hate at Hugh, he strode away.
The next day, as he had planned, Hugh played with placques and won a thousand francs. On his way out he met Mr. Gimp. The little lean man seemed agitated as he fumbled over “the makings.” He pursed out his underlip grimly.
“Heard the news?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Emslie ... she’s gone ... the veronal route....”
2.
One morning Hugh awoke joyously and sang as he dressed.
“You seem very gay,” said Margot, “considering you came home so very late last night.”