A man of small stature, smooth face and the keenest eyes Bordine had ever seen in human head, stood before him. He lifted a broad-brimmed straw hat and fanned himself as though heated, although the air was quite cool for the season.
"Do you mean Ransom Vane?"
"Yes, sir."
"He lives here."
"Very good—"
"But, sir," interrupted Bordine, "he is in no mood to receive visitors now."
"Indeed?"
"A terrible thing has happened."
Then glancing down, the small stranger caught sight of the blood. He did not shrink, but an interested look at once came to his face.
"A tragedy?" he questioned, quickly.