As I alighted from
the cab, a young man came out of the door and walked swiftly down
the street. In passing me, I noticed that he cast an inquisitive
and somewhat malevolent glance at me, and I took the incident as a
good omen, for his appearance was that of a rejected candidate, and
if he resented my application it meant that the vacancy was not yet
filled up. Full of hope, I ascended the broad steps and rapped
with the heavy knocker.
A footman in powder and livery opened the door. Clearly I was
in touch with the people of wealth and fashion.
"Yes, sir?" said the footman.
"I came in answer to----"
"Quite so, sir," said the footman. "Lord Linchmere will see
you at once in the library."
Lord Linchmere! I had vaguely heard the name, but could not
for the instant recall anything about him. Following the footman,
I was shown into a large, book-lined room in which there was seated
behind a writing-desk a small man with a pleasant, clean-shaven,
mobile face, and long hair shot with grey, brushed back from his
forehead. He looked me up and down with a very shrewd, penetrating
glance, holding the card which the footman had given him in his
right hand.
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