“It’s me,” says Stanhope, seizing the proffered hand and giving it a hearty pressure. “Oh, and here’s Mr. Follingsbee. Glad you are here, sir.”
As he grasps the hand of the lawyer he notes, with a start of surprise the presence of Walter Parks.
“Mr. Parks!” he exclaims, “this is better than I hoped for.”
And then his eyes rest upon John Ainsworth’s disturbed countenance.
“Mr. Stanhope,” the Chief says gravely, “this is Mr. Ainsworth, late of Australia. He is interested in your search almost equally with Mr. Parks.”
The detective starts, and scans the face of the Australian with strange eagerness. Evidently his impressions are satisfactory for his face lights up as he asks:
“Not—not Mr. John Ainsworth, once the friend of Arthur Pearson?”
“The same,” replies Walter Parks, for John Ainsworth seems unable to speak.
“Then,” and he extends his hand to Mr. Ainsworth, “this is indeed a most opportune meeting. My lack of knowledge concerning you, sir, was my one anxiety this morning.”
The four office-chairs being occupied, Stanhope perches himself upon the corner of the desk, saying, as the Chief makes a movement toward the bell: