“Well, Mr Stiff?”
“I can’t get rid of him, please, Sir Francis. He says he should be so glad if you’d see him only for a minute. He won’t detain you more, and he’s in a terrible way about your saying you can’t.”
“Well, show him up,” said Sir Francis, who was not in the humour to refuse anything in the gladness and thankfulness which now filled his heart.
“Shall I see him?” said Clayton, offering to relieve Sir Francis of the task.
“No; perhaps it is something about poor Lionel. I will see him.”
The next minute there was the peculiar thumping noise of D. Wragg’s feet in the passage, but Sir Francis found time to say a few words before the dealer readied the room.
“Is not this the curious-looking man at the house we searched?”
“The same,” said Harry.
“Ah, yes!—I forgot,” said Sir Francis; “these troubles have tried me. But here he is.”
Sir Francis was right, for the noise increased, the door was thrown open, and the next moment, in a tremendous state of excitement, D. Wragg stood confessed.