“Mr. Samuel Galley-Campaigne.” In the corner were the words, “Solicitor, Commercial Road.”
“I know nothing about you,” said Leonard. “Perhaps, however—will you come in?”
He led the way into the study, and turned on one or two more lights. Then he looked at his visitor.
The man followed him into the study, threw off his cape and hat, and stood before him—a tall, thin figure, with a face which instantly reminded the spectator of a vulture; the nose was long, thin, and curved; his eyes were bright, set too close together. He was dressed in a frock-coat which had known better days, and wore a black tie. He looked hungry, but not with physical pangs.
“Mr. Samuel Galley-Campaigne,” he repeated. “My father’s name was Galley; my grandmother’s maiden name was Campaigne.”
“Oh, your grandmother’s name was Campaigne. Your own name, then, is Galley?”
“I added the old woman’s name to my own; it looks better for business purposes. Also I took her family crest—she’s got a coat of arms—it looks well for business purposes.”
“You can’t take your grandmother’s family shield.”
“Can’t I? Who’s to prevent me? It’s unusual down our way, and it’s good for business.”