He
became aware that he was being watched.
There was no particular secrecy about it. Even in the hotel itself some
one was always on his heels. The absence of any attempt at concealment
convinced him that it was the authorized police who had thus suddenly
showed their interest in him. The suspicion was soon to be confirmed.
The manager called him on the fourth morning into his private office.
"Monsieur will pardon me, I trust," he said, "if I take the liberty of
asking him a question."
"Certainly!" Duncombe answered. "Go ahead!"
"Monsieur is aware that he has been placed under the surveillance of the
police?"
"The fact," Duncombe said, "has been borne in upon me during the last
few hours. What of it?"
The manager coughed.
"This is a cosmopolitan hotel, Sir George," he said, "and we make no
pretence at ultra-exclusiveness, but we do not care to see the police on
the premises."
"Neither do I," Duncombe answered. "Can you suggest how we may get rid
of them?"
"Monsieur does not quite understand," the manager said smoothly.
"Clearly he has done something to bring him under the suspicion of the
law. Under these circumstances it would be more agreeable to the
management of the hotel if Monsieur would depart.
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