"Nothing as yet to what it will be," remarked Mr. Pawle sententiously.
"Come on--I'm famishing. Let's lunch--and then we'll go back to town."
Another surprise awaited them when they walked into Mr. Pawle's office in
Bedford Row at four o'clock that afternoon. A card lay on the old
lawyer's blotting-pad, and after glancing at it, he passed it to Viner.
"See that?" he said. "Now, who on earth is Mr. Armitstead Ashton
Armitstead, of Rouendale House, Rawtenstall? Who left this?" he went on,
as a clerk entered the room with some letters.
"A gentleman who called at three o'clock, sir," replied the clerk. "He
said he's travelled specially from Lancashire to see you about the Ashton
affair. He's going to call again, sir. In fact," concluded the clerk,
glancing into the anteroom, "I think he's here now."
"Bring him in," commanded Mr. Pawle. He made a grimace at Viner as the
clerk disappeared. "You see how things develop," he murmured. "What are
we going to hear next?"
CHAPTER XI
WHAT HAPPENED IN PARIS
The man who presently walked in, a tall, grey-bearded, evidently
prosperous person, dressed in the height of fashion, glanced keenly from
one to the other of the two men who awaited him.
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