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Updated: June 11, 2025
He sat in an easy-chair with his back to the window, his hands crossed upon his stick, his eyes fixed upon the fire. Duson was moving noiselessly about the room, cutting the morning's supply of newspapers and setting them out upon the table. His master was in a mood which he had been taught to respect. It was Mr. Sabin who broke the silence. "Duson!" "Your Grace!"
"To Felix, "No 27, Rue de St. Pierre, "Avenue de L'Opera, Paris. "Meet me at Sherry's Restaurant, New York, one month to-day, eleven p.m. "It shall be sent immediately, your Grace. The train for New York leaves at seven-ten. A carriage will be here in one hour and five minutes." The man moved towards the door. His master looked up. "Duson!" "Your Grace!"
"Duson died virtually whilst accepting pay from if not actually in the employ of our Secret Service Department. You will understand, therefore, that we, knowing of this complication in his life, naturally incline towards the theory of murder. Shall I be taking a liberty, sir, if I give you an unprofessional word of warning?" Mr. Sabin raised his eyebrows. "By no means," he answered.
Duson was standing upon the pavement, his pale, nervous face whiter than ever under the electric light. Mr. Sabin stopped short. "Felix," he said, "one word. If by any chance things have gone wrong they will not have made any arrangements to detain you. Catch the midnight train to Boston and embark on the Saxonia. There will be a cable for you at Liverpool.
He came and sat by her side. She leaned over to meet his embrace. "You make patience," he murmured, "a torture!" Mr. Sabin walked home to his rooms late in the afternoon, well content on the whole with his day. He was in no manner prepared for the shock which greeted him on entering his sitting-room. Duson was leaning back in his most comfortable easy-chair. "Duson!" Mr. Sabin said sharply.
"Duson was, after all, a valet, a person of little importance. There is no one to whom his removal could have been of sufficient importance to justify such extreme measures. With you it is different." Mr. Sabin knocked the ash from his cigarette. "Why not be frank with me, Mr. Passmore?" he said. "There is no need to shelter yourself under professional reticence.
"Poor man," she said mockingly. "It is always the same when you and Souspennier meet." He set his teeth. "This time," he muttered, "I hold the trumps." She pointed at the clock. It was nearly four. "She was there at eleven," she remarked drily. "His Highness, the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!" Duson stood away from the door with a low bow.
I did it because the orders which came to me were such as I dare not disobey. Here are your keys, your Grace, and money." Mr. Sabin looked at him steadily. "You, too, Duson?" "I too, alas, your Grace!" Mr. Sabin considered for a moment. "Duson," he said, "I retain you in my service. Take my luggage on board the Campania to-morrow afternoon, and pay the bill at the hotel.
There, I shall do nothing more save identify Duson and state the circumstances under which I found him." "I understand that perfectly, sir," the man answered. "The less said at the inquest the better in the interests of justice." Mr. Sabin nodded. "I am glad," he said, "that you appreciate that. I do not mind going so far then as to tell you that I believe Duson died of poison."
Sabin nodded. "In a few minutes," he answered. The little party broke up almost immediately. Coffee was ordered in the palm court, where the band was playing. Mr. Sabin and the Prince fell a little behind the others on the way out of the room. "You heard my summons?" Mr. Sabin asked. "Yes!" "I am going to be cross-examined as regards Duson. I am no longer a member of the Order.
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