Pentwin stepped back a pace. “It’s all right, sir,” he said apologetically, “it’s only papers.”
He drew an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Lechworthy. Smith toyed pensively with his revolver.
From the envelope Lechworthy drew a visiting-card printed in blue. It bore the name of Mr Henry Parget. On the left-hand corner was printed “Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard.” The envelope contained two other papers, and Lechworthy glanced quickly through them.
“Quite correct apparently,” he said. “I don’t think, sir, there is anything to fear. This gentleman really has business with me, and I shall be glad to talk it over with him.”
“You may assure yourself that I carry no weapons of any kind,” added the man from Scotland Yard who had passed as Pentwin.
The King did assure himself thoroughly—he had searched men before. “You must understand,” he said, “why I am so careful, Mr Pentwin. My friend, Mr Lechworthy, has already been shot at by one of the white men here; the man who did it is dead.”
“Quite natural that you should be careful, sir,” said Parget, smiling. “And now may I get on to my business?”
“Certainly. You will take him up to the house, Mr Lechworthy? That’s right. And send one of the boys with him when he goes, will you? You see, Mr Pentwin, a stranger wandering alone there would be shot at once; I am careful for you as well as for Mr Lechworthy.”
The King strode off down the road with a rapid and yet graceful gait.
“Now, then, Mr Parget,” said Lechworthy, “keep close to me and you’ll be all right.”