“Yes, sir; she leaves at eight-thirty, sharp. This way, please.”
They hurried together to where the train stood, and the man, after depositing the valise under the seat of an empty first-class compartment, received his tip and withdrew.
Pierre then entered, but before he had time to arrange his belongings and comfortably ensconce himself the guard slammed the door, and the train glided away on its journey to the sea.
Another had been added to the long list of London mysteries.
Chapter Twelve.
“A Crooked Bit of Business.”
Mr Bernard Graham was sitting in his gloomy office in Devereux Court one afternoon a few days later.
His elbows rested upon his littered writing-table, his pince-nez poised upon his thin nose, and he was absorbed in the technicalities of a document when his lad entered with a card.