“Not at all, if you’ll promise to explain the result of your investigations afterwards.”
“You shall know everything later,” he assured me, and a few minutes afterwards I alighted at the saloon bar he had indicated, a long lounge patronised a good deal by theatrical people.
He was absent nearly half-an-hour, and when he returned I saw from his face that he had obtained some information that was eminently satisfactory.
“I hope to learn something further this afternoon,” he said before we parted. “If I do I shall be with you at four.” Then he jumped into a hansom and disappeared. Jevons was a strange fellow. He rushed hither and thither, telling no one his business or his motives.
About the hour he had named he was ushered into my room. He had made a complete change in his appearance, wearing a tall hat and frock coat, with a black fancy waistcoat whereon white flowers were embroidered. By a few artistic touches he had altered the expression of his features too—adding nearly twenty years to his age. His countenance was one of those round, flexible ones that are so easily altered by a few dark lines.
“Well, Ambler?” I said anxiously, when we were alone. “What have you discovered?”
“Several rather remarkable facts,” was his philosophic response. “If you care to accompany me I can show you to-night something very interesting.”
“Care to accompany you?” I echoed. “I’m only too anxious.”
He glanced at his watch, then flinging himself into the chair opposite me, said, “We’ve an hour yet. Have you got a drop of brandy handy?”
Then for the first time I noticed that the fresh colour of his cheeks was artificial, and that in reality he was exhausted and white as death. The difficulty in speaking that I had attributed to excitement was really due to exhaustion.