"I'll see this gentleman," he said, with a sudden brisk interest.

He found the visitor standing in the hall.

He was a man who would have attracted attention, if only from the
somewhat eccentric nature of his dress and his unkempt appearance. He
was dressed in a well-worn overcoat of a somewhat pronounced check, he
had a top-hat, glossy and obviously new, at the back of his head, and
the lower part of his face was covered by a ragged beard. This he was
plucking with nervous jerks, talking to himself the while, and casting a
disparaging eye upon the portrait of Remington Kara which hung above the
marble fireplace. A pair of pince-nez sat crookedly on his nose and
two fat volumes under his arm completed the picture. Fisher, who was an
observer of some discernment, noticed under the overcoat a creased blue
suit, large black boots and a pair of pearl studs.

The newcomer glared round at the valet.

"Take these!" he ordered peremptorily, pointing to the books under his
arm.

Fisher hastened to obey and noted with some wonder that the visitor did
not attempt to assist him either by loosening his hold of the volumes
or raising his hand. Accidentally the valet's hand pressed against the
other's sleeve and he received a shock, for the forearm was clearly an
artificial one. It was against a wooden surface beneath the sleeve
that his knuckles struck, and this view of the stranger's infirmity was
confirmed when the other reached round with his right hand, took hold of
the gloved left hand and thrust it into the pocket of his overcoat.

"Where is Kara?" growled the stranger.

"He will be back very shortly, sir," said the urbane Fisher.

"Out, is he?" boomed the visitor. "Then I shan't wait. What the devil
does he mean by being out? He's had three years to be out!"

"Mr. Kara expects you, sir. He told me he would be in at six o'clock at
the latest."

"Six o'clock, ye gods'." stormed the man impatiently. "What dog am I
that I should wait till six?"

He gave a savage little tug at his beard.

"Six o'clock, eh? You will tell Mr. Kara that I called. Give me those
books."

"But I assure you, sir,--" stammered Fisher.

"Give me those books!" roared the other.

Deftly he lifted his left hand from the pocket, crooked the elbow by
some quick manipulation, and thrust the books, which the valet most
reluctantly handed to him, back to the place from whence he had taken
them.

"Tell Mr. Kara I will call at my own time--do yo