“I can be with you in half an hour. I must return to my office first.”
Captain Harker, turning to glance at Tuppence, may have been surprised to see a half smile lurking for a moment at the corners of her mouth.
“No, no, that will not do. You must return with me.” The grey haired man took a card from his pocket and handed it across the table. “That is my name.”
Tommy fingered it.
“My fingers are hardly sensitive enough for that,” he said with a smile, and handed it to Tuppence, who read out in a low voice: “The Duke of Blairgowrie.”
She looked with great interest at their client. The Duke of Blairgowrie was well known to be a most haughty and inaccessible nobleman who had married as a wife the daughter of a Chicago pork butcher, many years younger than himself, and of a lively temperament that augured ill for their future together. There had been rumors of disaccord lately.
“You will come at once, Mr. Blunt?” said the Duke, with a tinge of acerbity in his manner.
Tommy yielded to the inevitable.
“Miss Ganges and I will come with you,” he said quietly. “You will excuse my just stopping to drink a large cup of black coffee? They will serve it immediately. I am subject to very distressing headaches, the result of my eye trouble, and the coffee steadies my nerves.”
He called a waiter and gave the order. Then he spoke to Tuppence.
“Miss Ganges—I am lunching here tomorrow with the French Prefect of Police. Just note down the luncheon, and give to the head waiter with