“When are you going down there?”
“The sooner the better. If you will grant the favor I have asked, I would like to take the next train.”
“Do so, by all means,” said Chief Watts, rising. “Garratt, send Sheridan Keene in here.”
“Is he the officer to whom you referred?” asked the lawyer.
“Yes, he is.”
“I think I have heard the name before.”
“You will hear it many times again, if he decides to continue the work he has begun. He is a young man of extraordinary——”
But the sound of a firm step in the corridor, followed by the opening of the office door, led Chief Watts to suppress his complimentary utterances, and to turn, in[{38}]stead, to the person who entered—a tall, athletic young man, of about twenty-five years, with an erect and supple figure and noticeably refined and forceful face.
“Detective Keene, this is Mr. Hamilton French, the lawyer,” said the chief gravely. “He is a personal friend—one I would be glad to effectively serve, if it is possible. I wish you to undertake some special detective work at his solicitation.”
A curious smile rose about the lips of Sheridan Keene, and he took the hand which Lawyer French extended.