Starmidge sat down and looked again at the visitor—a tall, sandy-haired, freckled young man, who was obviously a good deal puzzled.
"Is Mr. Hollis missing, then?" asked Starmidge.
Simmons looked as if he found it somewhat difficult to explain matters.
"Well," he answered. "It's this way. I've never seen him since Saturday. And he hasn't been at his rooms—his private rooms—since Saturday. In the ordinary course he ought to have been at business first thing yesterday—we'd some very important business on yesterday morning, which wasn't done because of his absence. He never turned up yesterday at all—nor today either—we never heard from or of him. And so, when I read that description in the papers this evening, I caught the first express I could get down here—at least to Ecclesborough—I had to motor from there."
"That description describes Mr. Hollis, then?" asked Starmidge.
"Exactly! I'm sure it's Mr. Hollis—it's him to a T!" answered the clerk. "I recognized it at once."
"Let's get everything in order," said Starmidge, with a glance at Polke. "To begin with, who is Mr. Hollis?"
"Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, 59b South Square, Gray's Inn," replied Simmons promptly. "Andwell & Hollis is the name of the firm—but there isn't any Andwell—hasn't been for many a year—he's dead, long since, is Andwell. Mr. Hollis is the only proprietor."
"Don't know him at all," remarked Starmidge. "What's his particular line of practice?"
"Conveyancing," said Simmons.