And so it came to pass for one evening the great Mr. Flicker himself put in an appearance at the Brown Bear, having left his brougham at the corner of the street. He was a tall, thin, melancholy-looking man, like an attenuated life-guardsman who had turned mute for a livelihood. He stood among the bar-frequenters for a moment or two while Mr. Fildew was summoned, looking as grim, cold, and uncompromising as if he had been carved out of monumental marble.
"I am Mr. Flicker."
"I am Mr. Fildew."
Then the latter said a few words to the landlord, and the two gentlemen were ushered up-stairs into a private room. As soon as the door was shut, said the lawyer: "We received rather a singular communication from you a few days ago, Mr. Fildew."
"In what did the singularity of my communication consist, Mr. Flicker?"
"I will be frank with you, and I trust you will be equally frank with me."
Mr. Fildew bowed, but said nothing.
"May I be permitted to ask by what reasons you were influenced in your assumption that a knowledge of the address of--of--"
"Of the present Earl of Loughton," suggested Mr. Fildew, blandly.
"That a knowledge of the address of the person named in your letter," said Mr. Flicker, loftily, "could be of any possible interest either to the Dowager Lady Loughton or to myself or partner?"