The lawyer himself—a bland man with a rugged head, a Roman nose and a sharp eye—sat on a hard-bottomed chair in front of a square desk. Why should business men, by the way, subject themselves to voluntary martyrdom by using polished seats of hard-wood? Is it with a view to doing penance for the sins of the class to which they belong?
“Have you found her, Mr Saker?” asked Captain Bream, eagerly, on entering.
“No, not got quite so far as that yet—pray sit down; but we have reason to believe that we have got a clue—a slight one, indeed, but then, the information we have to go upon in our profession is frequently very slight—very slight indeed.”
“True, too true,” assented the captain. “I sometimes wonder how, with so little to work on at times, you ever begin to go about an investigation.”
The lawyer smiled modestly in acknowledgment of the implied compliment.
“We do, indeed, proceed on our investigations occasionally with exceeding little information to go upon, but then, my dear sir, investigation may be said to be a branch of our profession for which we are in a manner specially trained. Let me see, now.”
He took up a paper, and, opening it, began to read with a running commentary:—
“Fair hair, slightly grey; delicate features, complexion rather pale, brown eyes, gentle manners.”
“That’s her—that’s her!” from the captain.
“Age apparently a little over thirty. You said, I think, that your sister was—”