The last of all he held in his hand for several seconds unopened. The
envelope was a large one and stiff, as if it contained cardboard. It was
directed in an irregular, childish scrawl. Mordaunt, sitting at his
writing-table, with his back to his guest, studied it gravely,
thoughtfully. Finally very quietly he broke the seal.

There was a crackle of tissue-paper, and he drew out a photograph--the
photograph of a laughing girl with a diminutive terrier of doubtful
extraction clasped in her arms. Without any change of countenance he
studied this also.

He laid it at last upon his table, and turned in his chair. "Have you had
anything to drink?"

De Montville looked slightly disconcerted by the question. "But no!" he
said. "I have not--that is to say, I would not--"

Mordaunt stretched a hand to the bell. "Holmes should have seen to it.
What do you drink? Afraid I can't offer you absinthe."

"But I never drink it, monsieur."

"No? Whisky and soda, then?"

"What you will, monsieur."

"Very well. Whisky and soda, Holmes, and be quick about it." Mordaunt
glanced at the clock, looked again at the photograph at his elbow,
finally rose. "I want a talk with you, M. de Montville," he said, "if you
feel up to it. Don't get up, please. There is no necessity."

But de Montville apparently thought otherwise, for he drew himself to a
sitting position and faced his benefactor.

"I also," he said, "have desired to talk with you since long."

Mordaunt pulled up a chair. "Do you mind if I talk first?" he said.

"But certainly, monsieur." With quick courtesy the Frenchman made reply.
His dark eyes were very intent. He fixed them upon the Englishman's face
and composed himself to listen.

"It's just this," Mordaunt said. "I think we know each other well enough
to dispense with preliminaries, so I will come to the point at once. Now
you have probably realized by this time that I am a very busy man--have
been for several years past. In my profession there is not much time for
sitting still, nor, till lately, have I wanted it. But there comes a time
in most men's lives when they feel that they would like to get out of the
rash and enjoy a little leisure, take it easy--in short, settle down and
grow old in comfort."

De Montville nodded several times with swift intelligence. "_Alors_,
monsieur contemplates marriage," he said.

Mordaunt laughed a little. "Exactly, _mon ami_, and that speedily."

He broke off at the entrance