A pert maid-servant took Furneaux's card, blanched when she read it, and
forgot to close the door of the dining-room. Hence, the detective heard
Elkin's gruff comments:

"What? _That_ chap? Wants to see me? Not more than I want to see him.
Show him in."

Furneaux, looking very meek and mild, entered an apartment of the
carpet-bag upholstery period. A set of six exceedingly good and rare
sporting prints caught his eye.

"Good day," he said, finding Elkin drinking tea, and eating a boiled
egg. "You're feeling better, I'm glad to see."

Now, no matter how ungracious a man may be, a courteous solicitude as to
his health demands a certain note of civility in return.

"Yes," he said. "Sit down. Will you join me?"

"I'll have a cup of tea, with pleasure," said Furneaux.

"Right-o! Just touch that bell, will you?"

The other obeyed, and took a closer look at one of the prints. Yes, the
date was right, 1841, and the stippling admirable.

"Nice lot of pictures, those," he said cheerfully, when the frightened
maid, much to her relief, had been told to bring another cup and a fresh
supply of toast.