well-built, clean-shaven man, of professional appearance and of a large,
heavy, solemn face the evidently usual pallor of which was deepened by
his black overcoat and cravat. An eminently respectable, slow-going,
unimaginative man, in Viner's opinion, and of a type which one may see by
the dozen in the precincts of the Temple; a man who would be content to
do a day's work in a placid fashion, and who cherished no ambition to set
the Thames on fire; certainly, so Viner thought from appearances, not the
man to commit a peculiarly daring murder. Nevertheless, knowing what he
did, he watched him closely.

The newcomer, on entering, glanced at once at a quiet corner of the room,
and seeing it unoccupied, turned to the bar, where the landlord, who was
as old-fashioned as his surroundings, was glancing over the evening
paper. He asked for whisky and soda, and when he took up the glass, drank
slowly and thoughtfully. Suddenly he turned to the landlord.

"Have you seen that gentleman lately that I've sometimes talked to in
the corner there?" he asked.

The landlord glanced across the room and shook his head.

"Can't say that I have, sir," he answered. "The tallish gentleman with a
grey beard? No, he hasn't been in this last night or two."

The other man sat down his glass and drew something from his pocket.

"I promised to bring him a specimen of some cigars I bought lately," he
said, laying an envelope on the counter. "I can't stop tonight. If he
should come in, will you give him that--he'll know what it is."