He did not hold out his hand, but he
eyed Brooks with a sort of critical survey, which the latter found a
little disconcerting.
"You wished to see me, sir?" Brooks asked. "My name is Kingston Brooks,
and these are my rooms."
"So I understood," the new-comer replied imperturbably. "I called about
an hour ago, and took the liberty of awaiting your return."
Brooks sat down. His vis-a-vis was calmly selecting a cigarette from a
capacious case. Brooks found himself offering a light and accepting a
cigarette himself, the flavour of which he at once appreciated.
"Can I offer you a whisky-and-soda?" he inquired.
"I thank you, no," was the quiet reply.
There was a short pause.
"You wished to see me on some business connected with the election, no
doubt?" Brooks suggested.
His visitor shook his head slowly. He knocked the ash from his
cigarette and smiled whimsically.
"My dear fellow," he said, "I haven't the least idea why I came to see
you this evening."
Brooks felt that he had a right to be puzzled, and he looked it. But
his visitor was so evidently a gentleman and a person of account, that
the obvious rejoinder did not occur to him.
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