He had barely returned to the house when he heard the tooting of a motor horn, and, looking out, he saw a large, powerful motor-car coming rapidly up the avenue. A minute later he heard voices in the hall—voices which suggested recognition. Then the door opened.
"Mr. Anthony Riggleton!" said the servant excitedly.
CHAPTER XVI
Riggleton's Homecoming
A young fellow about twenty-eight years of age entered the room. He was a round-faced, thickly built man, and he carried himself with a swagger. Evidently it had been his desire to get himself up for the occasion. His clothes were new, and shouted aloud of his tastes. They suggested a bookmaker. He smoked a large cigar, and wore an aggressive buttonhole. He did not take off his hat on entering, but, having advanced a couple of steps, took a survey of the room.
"Yes," he said, and his voice was somewhat thick; "I remember the old place well. It's as natural as life." Then, coming up to where Dick was, he continued, "Of course you know who I am?"
Dick, who had difficulty in repressing his excitement, mentioned something about never having seen him before.
"Oh, stow that!" said the newcomer. "I'm Tony Riggleton, I am. You know that well enough."