The air was delicious. We passed a small new hotel, very
smart and exclusive, with a big bow window. There, in evening dress,
lights burning and blind up, sat our friend, Dr. Polperro, with a
lady facing him, young, graceful, and pretty. A bottle of champagne
stood open before him. He was helping himself plentifully to
hot-house grapes, and full of good humour. It was clear he and the
lady were occupied in the intense enjoyment of some capital joke;
for they looked queerly at one another, and burst now and again
into merry peals of laughter.
I drew back. So did Sir Charles. One idea passed at once through
both our minds. I murmured, "Colonel Clay!" He answered, "_and_
Madame Picardet!"
They were not in the least like the Reverend Richard and Mrs.
Brabazon. But that clinched the matter. Nor did I see a sign of the
aquiline nose of the Mexican Seer. Still, I had learnt by then to
discount appearances. If these were indeed the famous sharper and
his wife or accomplice, we must be very careful. We were forewarned
this time. Supposing he had the audacity to try a third trick of
the sort upon us we had him under our thumbs. Only, we must take
steps to prevent his dexterously slipping through our fingers.
"He can wriggle like an eel," said the Commissary at Nice.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73