Quietly Mordaunt crossed the room to him. He was crouched like a monkey, his chin on his hand, and made no movement at his approach.
Mordaunt reached him, and bent a little. "Est-ce que vous attendez quelqu'un, monsieur?"
Dark eyes flashed up at him, and sharply Mordaunt straightened himself.
"I await Mr. Mordaunt," a soft voice said.
There was an instant's pause before, "That is my name," Mordaunt said very quietly.
"Eh bien, monsieur! May I speak with you—in private?"
The stranger rose shufflingly. He had the look of an old man.
"Come this way," Mordaunt said.
He re-crossed the room, his visitor hobbling in his wake. No one spoke, but all surveyed the latter curiously, and as the door of Mordaunt's bedroom closed upon him there was an interchange of glances and a raising of brows.
But nothing passed behind the closed door that would have enlightened any of them. For Mordaunt scarcely waited to be alone with the man before he said, "I must ask you to wait some time longer if you wish to speak to me. I am not at liberty at present."