At any rate he had the appearance of a man who was quite satisfied with himself.
The world had abused him, in some respects, but to-night he was in a humor to bid the whole universe defiance.
Success had come to him—the best he had ever dreamed of was now at his hand.
Others before Paul Prescott had believed themselves on the pinnacle of hope and power, only to find it all a dream and an illusion.
So Darrell reflected as he watched the man whom he meant to speedily humble.
While the two were yet talking, a door in the back part of the library opened.
Through this came three females. The first one was very like Prescott—indeed, it was easy for the detective to determine that she must be the artist’s sister.
After her came a sedate woman, neatly dressed, with her hair parted and brushed straight back on either side—a model of a housekeeper.
There was one more.
At sight of her Eric started, and an exclamation bubbled to his lips.