Francis, who
had remained only in the hope that something of the sort might
happen, was conscious of a queer sense of excitement when, with
the service of coffee, Sir Timothy, glass in hand, moved up from
a table lower down and with a word of apology took the vacant
place by his side. It was what he had desired, and yet he felt a
thrill almost of fear at Sir Timothy's murmured words. He felt
that he was in the company of one who, if not an enemy, at any
rate had no friendly feeling towards him.
"My congratulations, Mr. Ledsam," Sir Timothy said quietly. "You
appear to have started your career with a success."
"Only a partial one," Francis acknowledged, "and as a matter of
fact I deny that I have started in any new career. It was easy
enough to make use of a fluke and direct the intelligence of
others towards the right person, but when the real significance
of the thing still eludes you, one can scarcely claim a triumph."
Sir Timothy gently knocked the ash from the very fine cigar which
he was smoking.
"Still, your groundwork was good," he observed.
Francis shrugged his shoulders.
"That," he admitted, "was due to chance."
"Shall we exchange notes?" Sir Timothy suggested gently. "It
might be interesting."
"As you will," Francis assented. "There is no particular secret
in the way I stumbled upon the truth.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107