And you're easy enough to know; why, every boy in
the street knows you."
"Plain spoken!" Charles remarked.
"As you like it, sir," the man answered in a respectful tone. "I
endeavour to suit my dress and behaviour on every occasion to the
taste of my employers."
"Your name?" Charles asked, smiling.
"Joseph Medhurst, at your service. What sort of work? Stolen
diamonds? Illicit diamond-buying?"
"No," Charles answered, fixing him with his eye. "Quite another kind
of job. You've heard of Colonel Clay?"
Medhurst nodded. "Why, certainly," he said; and, for the first time,
I detected a lingering trace of American accent. "It's my business
to know about him."
"Well, I want you to catch him," Charles went on.
Medhurst drew a long breath. "Isn't that rather a large order?"
he murmured, surprised.
Charles explained to him exactly the sort of services he required.
Medhurst promised to comply. "If the man comes near you, I'll spot
him," he said, after a moment's pause. "I can promise you that much.
I'll pierce any disguise. I should know in a minute whether he's
got up or not. I'm death on wigs, false moustaches, artificial
complexions. I'll engage to bring the rogue to book if I see him.
You may set your mind at rest, that, while _I'm_ about you, Colonel
Clay can do nothing without my instantly spotting him.
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