They were staying at a modest hotel, comfortable, but not expensive. Harry was sitting in the reading room, when a servant brought in a card. It bore the rather remarkable name of
“DR. MENDELSSOHN BROWN.”
“A gentleman to see you, Mr. Vane,” said the servant.
Harry rose and surveyed the stranger in some surprise. He had long hair, of a reddish yellow, with an abundant beard of the same hue. His suit of worn black fitted him poorly, but Dr. Brown evidently was not a devotee of dress. No tailor could ever point to him, and say with pride: “That man’s clothes were made at my shop.”
“Do I speak to Mr. Harry Vane, the young vocalist?” asked the stranger, with a deferential smile.
“That’s my name,” answered our hero.
“You are alone?”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry, a little puzzled.
“It is well. I will come to business at once. You have probably heard of me, eh?”
“Probably I have, but I do not remember names well.”