He is tireless, impervious to rebuff, also relentless; as an
investigator of crime he is the keenest hound of them all; often he
does more than expose, he prevents. He is the Warwick of modern times;
he makes and unmakes kings, sceptral and financial.
This particular reporter sent his card up to Mr. Thornden and was,
after half an hour's delay, admitted to the suite. Mr. Thornden laid
aside his tea-cup.
"I am a newspaper man, Mr. Thornden," said the young man, his eye
roving about the room, visualizing everything, from the slices of lemon
to the brilliant eyes of the valet.
"Ah! a pressman. What will you be wanting to see me about,
sir?"--neither hostile nor friendly.
"Do you intend to remain long in America--incog?"
"Incog!" Mr. Thorndon leaned forward in his chair and drew down his
eyebrow tightly against the rim of his monocle.
"Yes, sir. I take it that you are Lord Henry Monckton, ninth Baron of
Dimbledon."
Master and man exchanged a rapid glance.
"Tibbets," said the master coldly, "you registered."
"Yes, sir.
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