Rising quickly, Mr. Follingsbee came forward to meet his guest, saying briskly:
“Ah, Warburton, good evening. I’ve been expecting you; sit down, sit down.”
As Alan placed his hat upon the table beside him, and took the seat indicated, he said, with a well-bred stare of surprise:
“You expected me, Mr. Follingsbee? Then possibly you know my errand?”
“Well, yes; in part, at least.” The lawyer took up a folded note, and passed it across the table to his visitor, saying: “It was left in my care about two hours ago.”
Alan glanced up at him quickly, and then turned his attention to the perusal of the note. It ran thus:
Alan Warburton:
The time has come, or will soon come, when Mrs. W— will find it necessary to confide her troubles to Mr. Follingsbee. The time is also near when you will have to fight Van Vernet face to face. You will do well to trust your case to Mr. Follingsbee, relying upon him in every particular. You will have to meet strategy with strategy, if you would outwit Vernet.
A Friend.
Alan perused this slowly, noting that the handwriting was identical with that of the scrap left by the “organ-grinder,” and then he refolded it, saying: