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