CHAPTER XIII
THE JAPANESE CABINET
Remembering that Barleyfield had said that the man who now entered had been in Ashton's company in that very room on the evening of the murder, Viner looked at him with keen interest and speculation. He was a tall, 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.
