He produced a silver match-box, and feeling his way carefully down the slippery steps, handed it to the stranger. Acknowledging the action with a murmur of thanks, the fellow took it, and making a protection with his cape, struck a match to light his pipe. It flickered for a moment and flared up, illuminating his features grotesquely.
Selwyn uttered a sharp ejaculation of surprise and stepped back a pace.
'Durwent!' he cried.
'Eh?' snapped the other, dropping the match on the wet stone, where it went out with a faint splutter. 'What's your game?'
'I could not see you before,' said the American quickly; 'but though I heard your voice only once, there was something about it I remembered.'
The Englishman struck a second match, and with a casual air of indifference lit his pipe.
'Thanks,' he said, handing the box to the American. Selwyn reached forward to take it, when suddenly his wrists were caught in a grip of steel.
'Damn you!' said Dick Durwent hotly, springing to his feet. 'Are you tracking me? I didn't come back to be caught like a rat. Are you a detective? If you are, by George! I'll drown you in the river.'
'Don't be a fool,' said Selwyn, writhing in pain with the other's torture.
'Who are you?'
'My name is Selwyn. I am an American; a friend of your mother and your sister.'