The police representatives were the first to arrive, as nonplussed as Fletcher, and feeling rather aggrieved that such a man as Sinclair should have acted without telling them anything.
This drew them together, and Fletcher, Andrews and Brown seated themselves at one end of the table, and waited. Jack Sefton and his sister came next, the latter nervous and rather pale. She gave a formal bow to the other men and with her brother took the opposite end of the long table.
The genial Southgate, who had obviously prepared himself for the meeting with refreshment from his cellar, entered and greeted the others with a cheery good morning. He looked at Fletcher, and laughed.
“Young man,” he said “you’ll ’ave a ’igh old time in a moment,” and he slapped his leg.
Giles had been hovering about, making things comfortable, and was quite the old butler again, but all waited for the principal figure. It seemed as though the whole thing had been staged for effect.
The door opened and Sinclair entered accompanied by the old man whom Fletcher had seen, and they took their seats in astonished silence.
There was one vacant chair, which Fletcher supposed was reserved for Halley.
“He’s late,” said Sinclair looking at his watch.
“I think I hear someone, sir,” said Giles, going to the door.
“Mr. Cook,” Giles announced, and the house agent came in and smiled nervously at the company.