'Certainly not, sir,' answered Stemp, drawing himself up with an air of injured pride, for he felt that his professional [{109}] manners were suspected, if not actually criticised.
'That's all right,' observed Mr. Van Torp, turning the card over. 'Oh, the writing's on the back, I see. Yes. Now, that's very curious, I must say,' he said, after reading the words. 'That's very curious,' he repeated, laying strong and equal emphasis on the last two words. 'Ask him to walk in, Stemp.'
'Yes, sir. With the man who speaks English for him, I suppose, sir?'
'No. He can wait outside till I want him, and you can go away too. I'll see the man alone.'
'Very good, sir.'
As the valet went out Mr. Van Torp turned his chair half round without getting up, so that he sat facing the door. A moment later Stemp had ushered in the visitor, and was gone.
A slim youth came forward without boldness, but without the least timidity, as if he were approaching an equal. He had an oval face, no moustache, a complexion like cream, short and thick black hair and very clear dark eyes that met the American's fearlessly. He was under the average height, and he wore rather thin, loose grey clothes that had been made by a good tailor. His hands and feet were smaller than a European's.
'So you're Mr. Barrack,' Mr. Van Torp said, nodding pleasantly.
The young face smiled, and the parted lips showed quite perfect teeth. [{110}]
'Barak,' answered the young man, giving the name the right sound.