He was eccentric, said his admirers, but
there were others who looked deeper for an explanation, yet failed to
find one, and were thrown back upon theories.
M. Max, by strategy, masterful because it was simple, so arranged
matters that at about twelve o'clock he found himself strolling with Sir
Brian Malpas toward the latter's chambers in Piccadilly.
A man who wore a raincoat with the collar turned up and buttoned tightly
about his throat, and whose peculiar bowler hat seemed to be so tightly
pressed upon his head that it might have been glued there, detached
himself from the shadows of the neighboring cab rank as M. Gaston Max
and Sir Brian Malpas quitted the Club, and followed them at a discreet
distance.
It was a clear, fine night, and both gentlemen formed conspicuous
figures, Sir Brian because of his unusual height and upright military
bearing, and the Frenchman by reason of his picturesque cloak and
hat. Up Northumberland Avenue, across Trafalgar Square and so on up to
Piccadilly Circus went the two, deep in conversation; with the tireless
man in the raincoat always dogging their footsteps. So the procession
proceeded on, along Piccadilly. Then Sir Brian and M. Max turned into
the door of a block of chambers, and a constable, who chanced to be
passing at the moment, touched his helmet to the baronet.
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