letter in the train.

I heard him thanking Dr. Silence for having come; there was no preamble,
and the exchange of civilities was of the briefest description.
Evidently here was a man who, like my companion, loved action rather
than talk. His manner was straightforward and direct. I saw him in a
flash: puzzled, worried, harassed into a state of alarm by something he
could not comprehend; forced to deal with things he would have preferred
to despise, yet facing it all with dogged seriousness and making no
attempt to conceal that he felt secretly ashamed of his incompetence.

"So I cannot offer you much entertainment beyond that of my own company,
and the queer business that has been going on here, and is still going
on," he said, with a slight inclination of the head towards me by way of
including me in his confidence.

"I think, Colonel Wragge," replied John Silence impressively, "that we
shall none of us find the time hangs heavy. I gather we shall have our
hands full."

The two men looked at one another for the space of some seconds, and
there was an indefinable quality in their silence which for the first
time made me admit a swift question into my mind; and I wondered a
little at my rashness in coming with so little reflection into a big
case of this incalculable doctor. But no answer suggested itself, and to
withdraw was, of course, inconceivable. The gates had closed behind me
now, and the spirit of the adventure was already besieging my mind with
its advance guard of a thousand little hopes and fears.

Explaining that he would wait till after dinner to discuss anything