Jack Cray’s red face was redder than usual with excitement, and there was something about his manner that suggested he had brought the famous newspaper owner there for no trivial reason.
The latter was a man rather over medium height, dressed in the very latest fashion, but with a trace of untidiness that suggested a careless valet. His face was inclined to be sallow, and the light eyes, prominent and rather jerky in their movements, had heavy bags under them, despite the fact that their owner must still have been under fifty.
For the rest, his chin was firm, perhaps a little pugnacious, and his bearing was that of a man who fully realizes his importance.
“This is Mr. Lane A. Griswold, the owner of the Chronicle and Observer, you know, Carter,” explained the flustered Cray. “Mr. Griswold, my friend, Nicholas Carter.”
Gordon kept his eyelids partially drawn down as he greeted the millionaire. It was a trick of Carter’s when thinking. In fact, the detective often closed his eyes altogether at such times. Gordon had noted this, and was making use of it in order to conceal the color of his eyes, the one weak point about his impersonation, physically considered.
Cray was inclined to clip his words short, and leave out as many of them as he could, thereby giving an impression of unusual directness, and a haste that cannot stop for trifles.
“Very important case, this one, Mr. Griswold has brought me,” he said. “Delicate matter, too—decidedly. Did little job for him once, so he brought me this. Thought I’d better let you in on it, though.”
Gordon nodded slightly, as if all this was quite a matter of course.
“I shall be glad to hear what it is about, Mr. Griswold,” he said. “Of course, I’m very busy, as always, but——”