"Dear, dear!" gasped the man, sitting down with an air of consternation. "I am shocked, really. Such a respectable gentleman! so old a customer!"
"What is the name?" cried Darrel anxiously.
"Grent, sir; Jesse Grent, of Wray House, Wraybridge."
"Grent--Grent!" muttered Darrel thoughtfully. "I seem to know the name."
"Everybody does, Mr. Darrel. Grent and Leighbourne, of Fleet-street."
"What! the bankers?"
"Yes, sir, yes. Mr. Jesse Grent was the head of the firm and now he is an angel. I hope so, for he was a good man, sir, who paid his bills most regul----"
"Thank you, Mr. Harcot," said Frank, cutting short these lamentations, which were a trifle mercenary. "You have told me all I wish to know. Mr. Jesse Grent, banker. H'm!--so he was the red-haired man."
Mr. Harcot was about to protest that the late Mr. Grent had white hair, but that Frank, with a curt nod, walked smartly out of the shop. Whereupon Harcot senior went to inform Harcot junior of the loss of a good customer, and to suggest an immediate sending in of the bill to the executors.
It was now too late to call at Torry's private office, as it was long after six o'clock before Frank terminated his inquiries; so he went back to his rooms and pondered over his discovery. He had heard of Mr. Grent, who was a rich banker and much respected. That he should be found dead in a disreputable neighborhood, in disguise, added to the mystery of the case. Frank thought over the matter all night, until his brain was on fire; and he was glad when the morning came that he could see Torry. Just as he was considering the advisability of paying a visit, the detective himself made his appearance and looked considerably disturbed.