"I've been expecting you, Mr. Cumshaw," I said. "I've been expecting you for some days now."
As a matter of fact I hadn't, but it is always a good rule to allow the other man to think you know everything.
"Moira," I said, "this is the Mr. Cumshaw we've been waiting for. Mr. Cumshaw, Miss Drummond."
"Pleased to meet you," he said and looked as if he meant it.
"Take a seat, Mr. Cumshaw," I said, and when he had accepted a chair, "What can I do for you?" I enquired.
He looked curiously from one to the other of us as if to seek an inspiration. "I presume Mr. Bryce is not about," he said at length.
"Well, hardly," I answered. "He's been dead this last couple of weeks." It was longer than that in reality, but I mentioned the first period that came into my head. Anyway, it didn't matter much how long it was since he died; nothing could make him any the less dead now.
"Oh," said Mr. Cumshaw quietly, as though my news was just what he had been expecting all along. "It is most regrettable," he added.
"Now what can I do for you?" I persisted.
"Touching the little matter of the gold escort," he said and fixed me with a glowing eye.