black, whose bearing and demeanour alike denoted the servant, but
whose physique was the physique of a prize-fighter. He was scarcely
more than five feet six in height, but his shoulders were
extraordinarily broad. He had a short, bull neck and long, mighty
arms. His face, with the heavy jaw and small eyes, was the face
of the typical fighting man, yet his features seemed to have become
disposed by habit into an expression of gentle, almost servile
civility.

"Meekins," Mr. Fentolin said, "a visitor has arrived. Do you happen
to have noticed what luggage he brought?"

"There is one small dressing-case, sir," the man replied; "nothing
else that I have seen."

"That is all we brought," Gerald interposed.

"You will bring the dressing-case here at once," Mr. Fentolin
directed, "and also my compliments to Doctor Sarson, and any
pocket-book or papers which may help us to send a message to the
gentleman's friends."

Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fentolin turned back
towards his nephew.

"My dear boy," he said, "tell me why you look as though there were
ghosts flitting about the room? You are not ill, I trust?"

"Tired, perhaps," Gerald answered shortly. "We were many hours in
the car. I have had no sleep."