He was soon deep in thought.
Suddenly his reverie was interrupted by the sound of the door-bell ringing.
“Hullo, Preston!” he exclaimed, as a moment later the footman announced the captain, who came limping into the room. “This is a pleasant surprise. Come and sit over here,” and he rolled an armchair towards him.
“Thanks,” his visitor answered. “I hope I am not intruding?”
He let himself slowly down into the big chair, then laid his stick beside it on the carpet.
“I wanted to see you rather particularly, La Planta,” he said, when they had exchanged one or two commonplace remarks. “So I looked up your address in the ‘Red Book’ and came along. I tried to get you on the telephone, but the operator declared she could get no reply.”
“She always does,” the young man answered dryly. “I have been seated beside the telephone at least half an hour and the bell has not even tinkled.”
“So much the better, perhaps, as I have found you in. Now, what I want to see you about is Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson.”
“Yes? I was at her house less than an hour ago.”
“Do you mind if I ask if you know much about her—who she is, where she comes from, and all that sort of thing? Please don’t think me inquisitive. You may think it cool of me to ask you this, but I have a reason for wanting to know.”