He was a pleasant-faced, grey-haired man, with a broad countenance, and a little grey moustache.
"I quite understand," he said. "We'll keep on them, and if I find it necessary, I'll get a third person. They won't get very far ahead of us, you bet," he laughed.
"They're extremely wary birds," I cautioned. "So you'll both of you be compelled to keep your eyes skinned."
"You merely want to know what's doing-eh?"
"Yes. I'm fagged out, and want a rest to-night. I'll come up and see you in the morning," I said.
Then we entered a bar, and having had a drink together, we went to Arkwright Road, where I rejoined Fournier, and with him returned to my rooms.
Next day nothing happened. The two men wanted, wearing different clothes, and Vernon in blue glasses, went out about eleven for a walk as far as Hampstead Heath, and returned to luncheon. That was all my watchers reported.
On the following evening, however, I met Benham by appointment in a bar in the Finchley Road, when he said—
"There's something in the wind, Mr. Vidal. But I can't make out what it is. This afternoon a well-dressed man, apparently an Italian, called, and about half an hour later a smart young French girl, with fair hair, and wearing a short dark blue dress and brown silk stockings and shoes, also paid the pair a visit. She's there now."
From the further description he gave of her, I found that it tallied exactly with the identity of Lola.