Then he lit a cigar to soothe his disappointment.
"I cannot emulate the House of Commons bird," he mused, "or at this moment I would be close to Jiro's flat in Kensington, and at the same time crossing Lombardy in an express.

What an ass Winter is, to be sure, whenever a subtle stroke requires an ingenious guard.

Jiro dresses his wife in male attire and sends her on an errand he dare not perform himself.

The fact that they depart together from their residence is diplomatic in itself.

If they are followed, the watcher is sure to shadow Jiro and leave his unknown friend.