Shortly after eight o’clock Fleming Stone arrived. His train was late, and so the Knollwood car had waited at the station and brought him up to the house.
Sayre greeted him, and made general introductions.
Stone was a magnetic man, and they all took to him. He was middle-aged, perhaps fifty or so, and his strong, rather patrician features gave him a look of wisdom and authority.
Abel Collins looked at him keenly, to learn if this was real wisdom or a sort of mask that every detective ought to wear, and his conclusion was that Mr. Stone was the goods all right. Than which, Abel knew no higher compliment.
Prall took the guest to his rooms, told him the supper was an informal affair and he need not dress, and at Stone’s dismissal left him.
The detective went first to a window and looked
