“Sure. Wanter take me up?”
“Yes,” answered Martin, hurrying him toward the right hand stairway. “Bet you a good cigar you won’t know the man in grey clothes we’ll see coming down from the other side.”
They had just reached the first landing when the person in question passed through the open hall below.
Mullin laughed.
“I’ll take a ‘Carolina Perfecto,’” he said and began to move up the steps again.
“Do you know him?” questioned Martin, slowly following.
“Sure. Everybody knows him. Give us something harder.”
“Well, who is he?”
“Nevis—of course.”
“Who’s he?”