All that sort of thing!"
Von Hillern ground out some low spoken and quite awful German words.
If he had not been trapped-if he had been in some quiet by-street!
"The man walking ahead of us is a detective from Scotland Yard.
The particularly heavy and rather martial tread behind us is that
of a policeman much more muscular than either of us. There is a
ball going on in the large house with the red carpet spread across
the pavement. I know the people who are giving it. There are a
good many coachmen and footmen about. Most of them would probably
recognize me."
It became necessary for Count von Hillern actually to wipe away
certain flecks of foam from his lips, as he ground forth again
more varied and awful sentiments in his native tongue.
"You are going back to Berlin," said Coombe, coldly. "If we English
were not such fools, you would not be here. You are, of course,
not going into that house."
Von Hillern burst into a derisive laugh.
"You are going yourself," he said. "You are a worn-out old ROUE,
but you are mad about her yourself in your senile way."
"You should respect my age and decrepitude," answered Coombe. "A
certain pity for my gray hairs would become your youth. Shall we
turn here or will you return to your hotel by some other way?"
He felt as if the man might a burst a blood vessel if he were
obliged to further restrain himself.
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