"Then what is the meaning of this outrage? What right have you to arrest me?" he said with a very creditable attempt at bluster which deceived Cleek not at all.
"The right of the law, young man. You asked me who I was just now. Well, I'll tell you as much as the world knows—I am Cleek, Cleek of Scotland Yard."
"Cleek!" Filled with astonishment and not a little awe, Sir Edgar found himself looking into a hard, cynical face with narrowed eyes and a thin-lipped, cruel mouth.
Cleek smiled.
"Perhaps you know this man better," he said, quietly, and in a flash his features blent, softened, altered, made of themselves yet another mask, and Sir Edgar found himself gazing into the face of Lieutenant Deland.
"Good heavens! The lieutenant!" he said, with a throb of fear in his voice. "Then you were that man—and Mr. Narkom knew all the time."
"Yes, Sir Edgar, and perhaps, too, you can tell me of this one, eh?"
In a flash, that face had given place to the bovine stupidity of Mr. George Headland, as the young man had seen him at Scotland Yard.
"Mr. George Headland!" The name scarcely sounded above a whisper and Cleek smiled a little as his face now resumed its normal expression.