“Indeed!” De Richleau raised his slanting eyebrows. “What makes you think that, my friend?”
“He had a cast in one eye; nasty-looking little chap. Mind you, I may be mistaken.”
“Would you know him again?”
“Um,” Simon nodded, “I think so.”
“In that case we must keep a sharp look-out. It is by no means unusual, in countries where there is a large organization of secret police, for one agent to be set to watch another. This man may be acting quite independently of our official guides, and unknown to them. We must be careful!”
They had entered the Zoo while they were talking, and found the eagles’ house without difficulty, but they looked in vain for Jack Straw. A keeper stood near the door at one end; the only other occupant of the big aviary was an elderly gentleman with fine, flowing white moustaches. He looked as if he had seen better days.
As they walked slowly along the cages they drew near to the old man, who was advancing in the opposite direction. Pausing now and again to admire the birds, they came together before a cage of vultures near the centre of the house.
“Filthy brutes!” said the old man, suddenly, in a surprisingly youthful voice, as he pointed with his stick.
“They are as Soviet Kommissars to the Royal Eagles who are Tsars,” the Duke answered, softly.
“You fooled your guides well last night,” the other went on, in perfect English, “but you must be careful — there are certain to be others watching you.”