For a Russian Grand
Duke, who had torn himself away, amidst valedictory explosions, from a
loving if too demonstrative people, was to pass anon on his way to the
Guildhall; and a British Prince, heroically indiscreet, was expected to
occupy a seat in the ducal carriage.
Near Rathbone Place Thorndyke halted and drew my attention to a
smart-looking man who stood lounging in a doorway, cigarette in hand.
"Our old friend Inspector Badger," said Thorndyke. "He seems mightily
interested in that gentleman in the light overcoat. How d'ye do,
Badger?" for at this moment the detective caught his eye and bowed. "Who
is your friend?"
"That's what I want to know, sir," replied the inspector. "I've been
shadowing him for the last half-hour, but I can't make him out, though I
believe I've seen him somewhere. He don't look like a foreigner, but he
has got something bulky in his pocket, so I must keep him in sight until
the Duke is safely past. I wish," he added gloomily, "these beastly
Russians would stop at home. They give us no end of trouble."
"Are you expecting any--occurrences, then?" asked Thorndyke.
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