“Why, of course,” she laughed. “But that poor old bobby with a dose of Number Two! I bet he’s feeling pretty rotten!”
“It was the only way,” declared the cosmopolitan adventurer. “I wasn’t going to be hauled to the station and lose the map.”
“Of course not. Well, have another drink and wait a few minutes,” the woman said, whereupon he began to chat with old Claribut.
“I suppose the Riviera looks a bit hot and dusty just now,” remarked Jimmie, the butler.
“Yes. But Freda’s a wonder, isn’t she?” remarked Allen. “I’ve been asking her about that girl Edna. What has become of her?”
“I don’t know, Dick. So don’t ask me,” Claribut answered, as he smoked one of Gordon’s cigars. Truly that was a strange menage.
“But surely you know something,” Allen said. “No, I don’t,” snapped old Jimmie.
“Ah! you know something—something very private, eh?” remarked the wily Dick. “I suppose you are aware that old Sandys has a firm of inquiry agents out looking for her?”
“Has he really?” laughed Claribut. “Well, then let them find her. Who has he called in?”
“Fuller—who used to be at the Yard. You recollect him. He had you once, so you’d better be careful.”