He laid a sovereign on the table. Without another word he left the room. I did not try to stop him. To my thinking the whole interview had verged perilously near to the ridiculous. I took the coin and locked it in a drawer, proposing, with Gardiner’s assistance, to hunt up Mr. Lander again. His money should be restored to him, if not in one form, then in another.
I would dine the man, and make him tell his funny tale.
CHAPTER XX.
MY CLIENT—AND HER FRIEND.
The next day I was engaged. On that following I went up to Fenchurch Street, to the offices of Messrs. Staple, Wainwright and Friscoe. I had ascertained that Gardiner was out of town, and actuated by motives of curiosity thought I would learn where Mr. Lander might be found. As I was going up the steps an old gentleman came down. I knew him pretty well. His name was Curtis. He had been, and, indeed, for all I knew, was still an agent of Lloyd’s. For two or three years we had not met. After we had exchanged greetings, I put to him my question.
“Do you know a man named Lander, Max Lander?”
“Late of The Flying Scud?”
An odd expression came on his face, as it were the suggestion of a grin.
“That’s the man.”
“Yes, I know something of Max Lander, Captain Max, as he likes to be called. Though there’s not much of the captain about him just at present.”
The grin came more to the front.