There's nothing else to do in this place until dinner-time." Hunterleys suffered himself to be persuaded and remounted the steps.
"Tell me, Lane," he asked curiously, "have you heard anything about any of the victims of our little struggle last night--I mean the two men we tackled ?" Richard shook his head.
"I hear that mine has a broken wrist," he said.

"Can't say I am feeling very badly about that!" "I've just been told that mine is going to die," Hunterleys continued.
The young man laughed incredulously.
"Why, I went over the prison this morning," he declared.

"I never saw such a healthy lot of ruffians in my life.

That chap whom you tackled--the one with the revolver--was smoking cigarettes and using language--well, I couldn't understand it all, but what I did understand was enough to melt the bars of his prison." "That's odd," Hunterleys remarked drily.

"According to the police commissioner who has just left me, the man is on his death-bed, and my only chance of escaping serious trouble is to get out of Monte Carlo to-night." "Are you going ?" Hunterleys shook his head.
"It would take a great deal more than that to move me just now," he said, "even if I had not suspected from the first that the man was lying." Richard glanced at his companion a little curiously.
"I shouldn't have said that you were having such a good time, Sir Henry," he observed; "in fact I should have thought you would have been rather glad of an opportunity to slip away." Hunterleys looked around them.