"Let me answer your last question first, sir," the intruder
begged. "I was seated alone, several tables away, when the
couple next to you went out, and having had pointed out to me the
other evening at Claridge's Hotel, and knowing well by repute,
the great barrister, Mr. Francis Ledsam, and his friend the
world-famed novelist, Mr. Andrew Wilmore, I--er--unobtrusively
made my way, half a yard at a time, in your direction--and here I
am. I came stealthily, you may object? Without a doubt. If I
had come in any other fashion, I should have disturbed a
conversation in which I was much interested."
"Could you find it convenient," Francis asked, with icy
politeness, "to return to your own table, stealthily or not, as
you choose?"
The newcomer showed no signs of moving.
"In after years," he declared, "you would be the first to regret
the fact if I did so. This is a momentous meeting. It gives me
an opportunity of expressing my deep gratitude to you, Mr.
Ledsam, for the wonderful evidence you tendered at the inquest
upon the body of my son-in-law, Oliver Hilditch."
Francis turned in his place and looked steadily at this unsought-for
companion, learning nothing, however, from the half-mocking smile
and imperturbable expression.
"Your son-in-law?" he repeated.
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