Kerry's expression had grown positively
ferocious.
"Put your card on the table," he said tersely, "and get out while my
hands stay in my pockets!"
Hurriedly the noble youth (he was the elder son of an earl) complied,
and departed. Then, one by one, the rest of the company filed past the
Chief Inspector. He challenged no one until a Jew smilingly laid a
card on the table bearing the legend: "Mr. John Jones, Lincoln's Inn
Fields."
"Hi!" rapped Kerry, grasping the man's arm. "One moment, Mr. 'Jones'!
The card I want is in the other case. D'you take me for a mug? That
'Jones' trick was tried on Noah by the blue-faced baboon!"
His perception of character was wonderful. At some of the cards he did
not even glance; and upon the women he wasted no time at all. He took
it for granted that they would all give false names, but since each of
them would be followed it did not matter. When at last the room was
emptied, he turned to the scowling proprietor, and:
"That's that!" he said. "I've had no instructions about your
establishment, my friend, and as I've seen nothing improper going on
I'm making no charge, at the moment. I don't want to know what sort of
show takes place on your platform, and I don't want to know anything
about you that I don't know already.
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