The haitches are mine, sir."
"Is he an American?"
"It's difficult to say, sir. He may be from Boston, but you never can
tell, sir."
"Do you know Boston, Hobbs?" inquired the Prince, adjusting his tie
before the mirror.
"Not to speak it, sir," said Hobbs.
The day was warm and clear, and Paris was gleaming. Robin stretched
his long legs in a brisk walk across the Place Vendome and up the Rue
de la Paix to the Boulevard. Here he hesitated and then retraced his
steps slowly down the street of diamonds, for he suspected Miss Guile
of being interested in things that were costly. Suddenly inspired, he
made his way to the Place de la Concorde and settled himself on one
of the seats near the entrance to the Champs Elysees. It was his
shrewd argument that if she planned a ride on that exquisite morning
it naturally would be along the great avenue, and in that event he
might reasonably hope to catch her coming or going. A man came up and
took a seat beside him.
"Good morning, Mr. Schmidt," said the newcomer, and Robin somewhat
gruffly demanded what the deuce he meant by following him.
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