"Mr. Rivington?" he said interrogatively.
Rivington bowed.
"Mr. Dinghra Singh?" he returned.
"Have you seen me before?"
"At a distance—several times."
"Ah!" The Indian drew himself up with a certain arrogance, but his narrow black moustache did not hide the fact that his lips were twitching with excitement. His dark eyes shone like the eyes of a beast, green and ominous. "But we have never spoken. I thought not. Now, Mr. Rivington, will you permit me to come at once to business?"
He spoke without a trace of foreign accent. He stood in the middle of the room, facing Rivington, in a commanding attitude.
Rivington took a seat on the edge of the table. He was still faintly smiling.
"Go ahead, sir," he said. "Won't you sit down?"
But Dinghra preferred to stand.