One, a quietly-dressed young man, had a worried expression on his pale face. The other was perhaps forty years of age, a tall, debonair type of man, dressed immaculately in evening clothes. He was smoking a cigarette in the end of a long holder. His ease of manner contrasted with the nervousness of his younger companion.
Both men arose to greet the new arrival. The young man spoke quickly.
“I am glad you are here, Mister Marchand,” he said. His tone indicated anxiety.
“I thought it best to return, Willis,” said the old man, in a peculiar, peevish voice.
He looked sharply at the young man. Then he turned to the one in evening clothes and stared at him, questioningly.
“What brings you here, Paget?” he demanded.
The man removed his cigarette holder from his lips.
“I learned that you were returning, Mister Marchand,” he said, with quiet deliberation. “I thought that you might wish to see me tonight.”
“Willis,” said the old man abruptly, “I told you to say nothing to any one.”
“But Mister Paget knew of the attempted burglary,” explained the young man. “He came here that night; happened to be passing at the time. I thought that he—”