It was getting on toward one o'clock. He rang
the bell for his clerk.
"Maunders," he said, "I once asked you to make some inquiries about a
young man called Walter Hine."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you remember what his habits were? Where he lunched, for instance?"
Maunders reflected for a moment.
"It's a little while ago, sir, since I made the inquiries. As far as I
remember, he did not lunch regularly anywhere. But he went to the
American Bar of the Criterion restaurant most days for a morning drink
about one."
"Oh, he did? You made his acquaintance, of course?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you might find him this morning, give him some lunch, and bring
him round to see me at three. See that he is sober."
At three o'clock accordingly Mr. Walter Hine was shown into the inner
room of Mr. Jarvice. Jarvice bent his bright eyes upon his visitor. He
saw a young man with very fair hair, a narrow forehead, watery blue eyes
and a weak, dissipated face. Walter Hine was dressed in a cheap suit of
tweed much the worse for wear, and he entered the room with the sullen
timidity of the very shy. Moreover, he was a little unsteady as he
walked, as though he had not yet recovered from last night's
intoxication.
Mr. Jarvice noted these points with his quick glance, but whether they
pleased him or not there was no hint upon his face.
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