Five minutes later the astonished menial returned, and the contempt of his bearing was somewhat abated.
“Please follow me,” he said, in a voice that was almost civil. A moment later the detective was in the presence of the wealthy and eccentric peer.
His immediate thought was that he had never met a more forbidding personality. Hard, angry eyes, that shot forth their baleful fire at the slightest provocation, a long hawk nose, a cruel, sensual mouth, were the salient features of a face that instinctively gave you the impression of evil.
His greeting was in accord with his appearance.
“Explain at once, if you please, the reason of this extraordinary intrusion. I see you come from Scotland Yard. What the devil have I to do with such a place?”
Johnson did not allow himself to be disturbed by the other’s rough and insolent manner.
“I have brought you a message from my chief, Mr Smeaton,” he said, in his most urbane manner. “I have no doubt you have heard of him.”
Lord Wrenwyck looked on the point of indulging in another angry explosion, but something in the steady gaze of the self-possessed young man seemed to momentarily disconcert him. He only growled, and muttered something too low for Johnson to catch.
“My chief, Mr Smeaton, occupies a very special position,” resumed the imperturbable detective. “In virtue of that position, he becomes acquainted with many curious facts, some of them connected with persons in high positions. Some of these facts he has to make known, in accordance with his sense of public duty. There are others which never go beyond his own cognisance and that of a few of his trusted subordinates. I trust your lordship gathers my meaning, which I am trying to convey as pleasantly as possible.”
Lord Wrenwyck stirred his crippled limbs, and shook his fist vindictively at the other.