“Good morning, Tony.” John Steadman shook hands with him warmly, his keen eyes taking in all the tokens of disturbance on the young man's face. “I am afraid my appearance is rather inopportune,” he went on. “Isn't that your young woman beating a hasty retreat down there?” In the distance Cecily's scurrying figure could plainly be seen.
“Yes, she is in a hurry,” Anthony said lamely.
“Obviously!” The barrister smiled. “But I am glad to have this opportunity of seeing you, Tony. I have been hoping to meet you.”
Mindful of Cecily's parting injunction Tony turned to the seat behind.
“Have a cigarette, sir?”
The barrister shook his head as he glanced at the open cigarette case.
“De Reszke! No, thanks! You are a bit too extravagant for me, young man! I always smoke gaspers myself.” He sat down and took out his own case. “You of course don't condescend to Gold Flake,” he went on. “I am rather glad of this opportunity of having a chat with you, Tony.”
Tony lighted his cigarette and threw the match away before he spoke, then he turned and looked John Steadman squarely in the face.
“I dare say you are, Mr. Steadman. So is your friend, Inspector Furnival, whenever I meet him, I notice.”
The barrister paused in the act of lighting his match.