Surely it was unsafe for her to go forth like that! I was surprised that Miss West allowed it. But, in all probability that worthy lady was in bed, and asleep, all unconscious of her charge’s escapade.
I had not followed very far before I became aware of a footstep behind me, and, turning, I saw a small, insignificant-looking man in dark clothes, who came quickly up to me. It was one of the police-agents employed at the house in Brunswick Square.
“Well, Dmitri!” I exclaimed in a low voice in French. “So you are looking after your young mistress—eh?” I asked, with a laugh, pausing to speak with him in order to allow the lovers to get further off.
“Yes, m’sieur,” replied the man in a tone of distinct annoyance.
“This is hardly wise of Her Highness,” I said. “This is not the hour to go out for a stroll.”
“No, m’sieur,” replied the shrewd agent of police, who had been for years employed at the palace of the late Grand Duke Nicholas in Petersburg. “I tell you I do not think it either safe or proper. These constant meetings must result in scandal.”
“Who is that young man?” I asked quickly. “You have made inquiry, no doubt?”
“Yes, m’sieur, I have. But I can learn very little. He seems to be a complete mystery—an adventurer, perhaps,” declared the suspicious police-agent in a low, hard voice; adding: “The fact is, that man who calls himself Richard Drury is, I feel sure, no fit companion for Her Imperial Highness.”
“Why not?” I demanded in eager surprise.
“Because he is not,” was the man’s enigmatical reply. “I do hope m’sieur will warn Her Imperial Highness of the danger,” he said reflectively, looking in the direction of the retreating figures.