"I sha'n't wait," said Stuyvie, and swiftly passed out into the deluge. No other course was open to him. There was trouble ahead and trouble behind.
Thomas Trotter laughed. The sallow-faced man made a trumpet of his hands and shouted after the departing one:
"Beat it! He's coming!"
The retreating footsteps quickened into a lively clatter. Trotter distinctly heard the sallow-faced man chuckle.
The Marchioness and Jane went home in the big Millidew limousine instead of in a taxi. They left the restaurant soon after the departure of Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. The pensive-looking stranger from Scotland Yard came out close upon their heels. He was looking for his American guide.
Trotter brought his car up to the awning and grinned broadly as he leaned forward for "orders."
"Home, James," said Lady Jane, loftily.
"Very good, my lady," said Trotter.
The man from Scotland Yard squinted narrowly at the chauffeur's face. He moved a few paces nearer and stared harder. For a long time after the car had rolled away, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, frowning perplexedly. Then he shook his head and apparently gave it up. He went inside to look for his friend.
The next day, the sallow-faced detective received instructions over the telephone from one who refused to give his name to the operator. He was commanded to keep close watch on the movements of a certain party, and to await further orders.
