The stranger eyed him with respectful surprise and dubiety for a moment.
"... An old family of importance," he admitted slowly. "I should say it might be called a military family." Then he stopped. "Perhaps..." said he, and looked at his Reverence.
"Ha!" said his Reverence blandly. "And the present client? An army man, is he?"
"The son of one, I believe, sir."
"To be sure. Precisely. The son of one. Beautiful! beautiful! One or two fat benefices in the family, do you know?"
"I rather fancy ... there is one attached to the estate. There may be more, for anything to my knowledge." The stranger followed the lead with the resignation of one who plays void of trumps. "If you know anything..." he hazarded.
His Reverence stroked a gorgeous nose of wisdom.
"No mistaking the symptoms. Not a bit of it. Your client seeks recovery of a daughter?"
The stranger demonstrated as much surprise as his discretion and his respectfulness would let him.
"You can inform us ... where she is?"