Perry Lamont’s son showed signs of high living, for his face was florid and his nerves a little unstrung. He was faultlessly attired, for he had the best tailor money could procure, and the detective watched him furtively while he appeared to enjoy his Havana.
Claude Lamont seemed to have a good deal of time on his hands, and so did Carter.
All at once a messenger boy entered the smoking room and looked around.
Spying Claude, he hastened to him and handed him a letter.
“Ha!” thought the watchful detective. “He is not forgotten to-night, and now we’ll see if it is an important message.”
Claude tipped the boy and opened the letter. He started a little as his eye fell upon the page and quickly glanced up as if to see if he were watched.
Then he settled down to a quiet perusal of the message, during which time Carter got a good look at the workings of his countenance.
“Hang it all. It comes just when I don’t want to be bothered with the matter,” growled Claude, as he rammed the message hurriedly into his pocket and then went toward the cloakroom.
Carter watched him through the open door and saw the letter drop from his pocket as he put on his overcoat.
Lamont walked out without noticing his loss, and the moment he vanished, the letter was in the detective’s hands.