The tone in which he uttered these words surprised me. Could it be Vera of whom they had been speaking? According to Lord Logan she had won heavily at trente-et-quarante. And if so, who was this man, this partner and friend of Dago Paulton’s? And what could the secret syndicate be in which both were interested?
I had my back to the door, and the middle-aged man who spoke between his teeth and was lying back in the lounge chair was almost facing me. Suddenly, a look of recognition came into his eyes—he had seen some one behind me enter, whom he knew.
“Ah, here is good old Dago,” he exclaimed. He held up his hand and signalled to him.
I had fitted a cigarette into my holder, struck a match, and lit up slowly, while I composed my thoughts. Now I half-turned to gaze upon this man of whom I had heard so much, and was now to see for the first time.
Chapter Thirteen.
In the Web.
I held my breath.
I should have recognised him at once from the panel portrait, though he looked some years older than when that photograph had been taken.