"
Francis smiled.
"Great minds," he murmured. "I will see the young lady this
afternoon, Shopland."
The detective raised his hat. They had reached the spot where
his companion turned off by the Horse Guards Parade.
"I may hope to hear from you, then, sir?"
"Within the course of a day or two, perhaps earlier," Francis
promised.
Francis continued his walk along the Embankment to his chambers
in the Temple. He glanced in the outer office as he passed to
his consulting room.
"Anything fresh, Angrave?" he asked his head-clerk.
"Nothing whatever, sir," was the quiet reply.
He passed on to his own den--a bare room with long windows
looking out over the gardens. He glanced at the two or three
letters which lay on his desk, none of them of the least
interest, and leaning back in his chair commenced to fill his
pipe. There was a knock at the door. Fawsitt, a young beginner
at the bar, in whom he had taken some interest and who deviled
for him, presented himself.
"Can I have a word with you, Mr. Ledsam?" he asked.
"By all means," was the prompt response. "Sit down."
Fawsitt seated himself on the other side of the table. He had a
long, thin face, dark, narrow eyes, unwholesome complexion, a
slightly hooked nose, and teeth discoloured through constant
smoking.
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