"The man I told you of. There he is, just across the lobby. The man with the gray clothes and gray hair."
"Oh, yes; the one lighting a cigar."
"Precisely."
Uncle John gazed across the lobby reflectively. The stranger's eyes roved carelessly around the big room and then he moved with deliberate steps toward their corner. He passed several vacant chairs and settees on his way and finally paused before a lounging-chair not six feet distant from the one occupied by Mr. Merrick.
"Pardon me; is this seat engaged, sir?" he asked.
"No," replied Uncle John, not very graciously, for it was a deliberate intrusion.
The stranger sat down and for a time smoked his cigar in silence. He was so near them that Patsy forbore any conversation, knowing he would overhear it.
Suddenly the man turned squarely in their direction and addressed them.
"I hope you will pardon me, Mr. Merrick, if I venture to ask a question," said he.
"Well, sir?"