A Prince of Swindlers by Guy Boothby Page B

whose acquaintance he had made in India under such peculiar circumstances, and under the spell of whose fascination he and his family had fallen so completely.
    Reaching the station, his lordship descended from his carriage, and made his way to the platform set apart for the reception of the Continental express. He walked with a jaunty air, and seemed to be on the best of terms with himself and the world in general. How little he suspected the existence of the noose into which he was so innocently running his head!
    As if out of compliment to his arrival, the train put in an appearance within a few moments of his reaching the platform. He immediately placed himself in such a position that he could make sure of seeing the man he wanted, and waited patiently until he should come in sight. Carne, however, was not among the first batch; indeed, the majority of passengers had passed before his lordship caught sight of him.
    One thing was very certain, however great the crush might have been, it would have been difficult to mistake Carne’s figure. The man’s infirmity and the peculiar beauty of his face rendered him easily recognisable. Possibly, after his long sojourn in India, he found the morning cold, for he wore a long fur coat, the collar of which he had turned up round his ears, thus making a fitting frame for his delicate face. On seeing Lord Amberley he hastened forward to greet him.
    â€œThis is most kind and friendly of you,” he said, as he shook the other by the hand. “A fine day and Lord Amberley to meet me. One could scarcely imagine a better welcome.”
    As he spoke, one of his Indian servants approached and salaamed before him. He gave him an order, and received an answer in Hindustani, whereupon he turned again to Lord Amberley.
    â€œYou may imagine how anxious I am to see my new dwelling,” he said. “My servant tells me that my carriage is here, so may I hope that you will drive back with me and see for yourself how I am likely to be lodged?”
    â€œI shall be delighted,” said Lord Amberley, who was longing for the opportunity, and they accordingly went out into the station yard together to discover a brougham, drawn by two magnificent horses, and with Nur Ali, in all the glory of white raiment and crested turban, on the box, waiting to receive them. His lordship dismissed his Victoria, and when Jowur Singh had taken his place beside his fellow servant upon the box, the carriage rolled out of the station yard in the direction of Hyde Park.
    â€œI trust her ladyship is quite well,” said Simon Carne politely, as they turned into Gloucester Place.
    â€œExcellently well, thank you,” replied his lordship. “She bade me welcome you to England in her name as well as my own, and I was to say that she is looking forward to seeing you.”
    â€œShe is most kind, and I shall do myself the honour of calling upon her as soon as circumstances will permit,” answered Carne. “I beg you will convey my best thanks to her for her thought of me.”
    While these polite speeches were passing between them they were rapidly approaching a large hoarding, on which was displayed a poster setting forth the name of the now famous detective, Klimo.
    Simon Carne, leaning forward, studied it, and when they had passed, turned to his friend again.
    â€œAt Victoria and on all the hoardings we meet I see an enormous placard, bearing the word ‘Klimo.’ Pray, what does it mean?”
    His lordship laughed.
    â€œYou are asking a question which, a month ago, was on the lips of nine out of every ten Londoners. It is only within the last fortnight that we have learned who and what ‘Klimo’ is.”
    â€œAnd pray what is he?”
    â€œWell, the explanation is very simple. He is neither more nor less than a remarkably astute private detective, who has succeeded in attracting notice in such a way that half London has been induced to patronize him. I have