“I seldom come here to the club,” he said, “although I have made rather frequent visits during the past few weeks. I had only a speaking acquaintance with Graham. He must have been highly esteemed.”
“He was quite popular,” replied the young man.
“I believe I have met you once or twice before,” observed the gray-haired man. “Your name is Cranston, is it not?”
“Lamont Cranston,” replied the other. “I have been away from town for several months; but I have seen you before that. I must confess, however, that your name has slipped my memory.”
“I am Richard Albion.”
“Oh, yes. Now I recollect. We once discussed Russia. Rather briefly, however. You told me that you had lived there, prior to the War.”
Richard Albion became thoughtful.
“I have deep remembrances of Russia,” he said. “Many of my friends belonged to the old regime. I have done much to aid them since the revolution. Some of them have come to America.
“It is a sad sight — persons of high station who have become virtually destitute through events over which they had no control.”
“Some have not been so unfortunate,” observed Lamont Cranston quietly.