When the writing was finished the kind eyes were again lifted toward me. Though the inspection was so mild, it pierced me through and through. It still seemed to cover me as he said: “You needn’t tell me your real name if you don’t want to—but in general we prefer it.”
“I’ll tell anything you ask me, sir. My name is Frank Melbury.” In order to conceal nothing, I added, “As a matter of fact, it’s Francis Worsley Melbury Melbury; but I use it in the shortened form I’ve given you.”
“Thanks. You’re English?”
“I’m a Canadian. My father is Sir Edward Melbury, of Montreal.”
“Married?”
“No, sir. Single.”
“And you have a profession?”
“Architect.”
“Have you worked at that profession here in New York?”
I gave him the names of the offices in which from time to time I had found employment.