Sir Timothy turned over his cigarette to look at the name of the maker.
“Excellent tobacco,” he murmured. “By-the-bye, what did you say the young man's name was?”
“Reginald Wilmore,” Francis told him.
“A good name,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I am sure I wish you both every good fortune in your quest. Would it be too much to ask you now, Mr. Ledsam, for that single minute alone?”
“By no means,” Francis answered.
“I'll wait in the office, if I may,” Shopland suggested, rising to his feet. “I want to have another word with you before I go.”
“My business with Mr. Ledsam is of a family nature,” Sir Timothy said apologetically, as Shopland passed out. “I will not keep him for more than a moment.”
Shopland closed the door behind him. Sir Timothy waited until he heard his departing footsteps. Then he turned back to Francis.
“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I have come to ask you if you know anything of my daughter's whereabouts?”
“Nothing whatever,” Francis replied. “I was on the point of ringing you up to ask you the same question.”