CHAPTER IXFawley’s left hand conveyed the letter in the blue envelope to the safe recesses of his pocket. His right hand continued its task of pouring out the coffee.
“Come in,” he invited.
The door was promptly opened. The person who stood upon the threshold was one of the most harmless-looking elderly gentlemen possible to conceive. He was inclined to be stout but his broad shoulders and erect carriage somewhat discounted the fact. He was possessed of a pink and white complexion, eyes of almost a China blue and shortly cropped grey hair. He wore a grey knickerbocker suit and carried in his hand a hat of the same colour of quaint design.
“I have the pleasure to address Major Fawley, is it not so?” he began in a clear pleasant voice with a slight foreign accent. “I was hoping to present
