“Hold the lantern closer, Joe. Look both of you; do you see that?”—[page 19].
“Yes! Boys, you know why I am leaving the mountains. I am going home to England, to be near my father who must die soon. I am not a poor man; I shall some day be richer still. If we fail to find this murderer, I shall put the matter in the hands of the detectives, and I will never give it up. Arthur Pearson met his death while traveling for safety with a party which calls me its leader, and I will be his avenger! It may be in one year, or two, or twenty; it may take a fortune, and a lifetime; but Arthur Pearson shall be avenged!”
CHAPTER I.
“STARS OF THE FORCE.”
“Yes, sir,” said Policeman No. 46, with an air of condescending courtesy, “this is the office.”
It is characteristic of the metropolitan policeman; he is not a man to occupy middle ground. If he is not gruffly discourteous, he is pretty certain to be found patronizingly polite.
Number 46 had just breakfasted heartily, and had swallowed a large schooner of beer at the expense of the bar keeper, so he beamed benignly upon the tall, brown-faced, grey-bearded stranger who had just asked, “Is this the office of the City Detective Agency?”
“This is the office, sir; up two flights and turn to your left.”