silver. The knowing reader could divine that Sir Albert had lived not only blatantly but hard and fast.
"Yah," said Reggie Fortune.
Just as he was putting on his coat, Sam arrived with a photograph of Sir Albert, and Reggie sat down to it. A plump man of middle height, rather loudly dressed; a long, heavy face, rather like a horse's, but with protruding eyes—commonplace enough. It was only the expression which made Reggie examine the fellow more closely. Under the photographic smirk was a look of insolence and conceit of singular force. The man who owned that would never allow any creature a right against him. Behold the secret of Sir Albert Lunt's success. And "Oh, Peter, I don't wonder some one murdered the animal," said Reggie. "Justifiable porcicide."
On which he went off to dinner with his sister, who had married a man in the Treasury, and gave him the pleasant somnolent evening you would expect.
When he came back there were two telegrams waiting for him.
Number one: "Was called in to Lunt case. Desire consult you. Lady Lunt also anxious your opinion.—Gerald Barnes."
Number two: "Desire consult you Lunt case. Please see me Prior's Colney morning.—Lomas."
Reggie whistled. "Let 'em all come," said he.
