“Mr. David Hume.”
Reginald Brett, barrister-detective, twisted round in hiseasy-chair to permit the light to fall clearly on the card handedto him by his man-servant.
“What does Mr. David Hume look like, Smith?” heasked.
“A gentleman, sir.”
Well-trained servants never make a mistake when they give such adescription of a visitor. Brett was satisfied.
“Produce him.”
Then he examined the card.
“It is odd,” he thought. “Mr. David Hume givesno address, and writes his own cards. I like his signature, too.Now, I wonder—”
The door was thrown open. A tall, well-proportioned young manentered. He was soberly attired in blue serge. His face and handsbore the impress of travel and exposure. His expression waspleasing and attractive. In repose his features were regular, andmarked with lines of thought. A short, well-trimmed beard, of thetype affected by some naval men, gave him a somewhat unusualappearance. Otherwise he carried himself like a Bri