3Dick’s heart had not had much more than enough time to settle into its usual rate of beating when there came another rap upon his door.
“Who is it?” he asked warily.
“Buttons, sir,” came the answer. “Gentleman downstairs sending up his card.”
Dick opened the door. Buttons offered him the card upon a salver. It was an imposing-looking card, much larger than ordinary. He read upon it this legend:
“H.S.H. Prince Boris Poniatevsky.”
“Chargé d’Affaires Bulomanian Legation.”
Dick whistled noiselessly. “So!” he said. “What sort of looking guy is this Prince chap?”
“Oh, he’s not a guy, sir,” said Buttons. “He’s a toff!” The boy planted an imaginary top hat on his head, and screwed a monocle into his eye.
“Is he alone?” asked d**k.
“No, he’s got another toff along with him.”
“I’ll see hi
