His present visit was less furtive and it was in broad daylight, with two detectives ostentatiously posted at the gates, that he made his call—for he took no unnecessary risks.
He walked up the four broad marble steps to the portico of the house, and wiped his feet upon a curious metal mat as he pressed the bell. The door itself was half hidden by a hanging curtain, such as one may see screening the halls of suburban houses, made up of brightly coloured beads or lengths of bamboo. In this case it was made by suspending thousands of steel beads upon fine wire strings from a rod above the door. It gave the impression that the entrance itself was of steel, but when in answer to his summons the door was opened, the chick looped itself up on either side in the manner of a stage curtain, and it seemed to work automatically on the opening of the door.
There stood in the entrance a tall man, with a broad white face and expressionless eyes. He was dressed soberly in black, and had the restrained and deferential attitude of the superior man-servant.
"I am Mr. Smith, of Scotland Yard," said T. B. briefly, "and I wish to see Mr. Moole."
The man in black looked dubious.
"Will you come in?" he asked, and T. B. was shown into a large comfortably furnished sitting-room.
"I am afraid you can't see Mr. Moole," said the man, as he closed the door behind him; "he is, as you probably know, a partial invalid, but if there is anything I can do——"
"You can take me to Mr. Moole," said T. B. with a smile; "short of that—nothing."
The man hesitated.
"If you insist," he began.