He turned and found Lord
Ashleigh standing by his side. Quest glanced towards Lenora.
"Run and get in the car," he whispered. "I will be there in a moment."
She dropped her veil and hastened across the pavement. The Englishman's
face grew sterner as he watched her.
"Macdougal's accomplice," he muttered. "We used to trust that girl, too."
"She had nothing whatever to do with the actual crime, believe me," Quest
assured him. "Besides, you must remember that it was really through her
that the man was brought to justice."
"I harbour no ill-feelings towards the girl," Lord Ashleigh replied.
"Nevertheless, the sight of her for a moment was disconcerting.... I would
not have stopped you just now, Mr. Quest, but my brother is very anxious
to renew his acquaintance with you. I think you met years ago."
Sanford Quest held out his hand to the man who had been standing a little
in the background. Lord Ashleigh turned towards him.
"This is Mr. Quest, Edgar. You may remember my brother--Professor
Ashleigh--as a man of science, Quest? He has just returned from South
America."
The two shook hands, curiously diverse in type, in expression, in all the
appurtenances of manhood. Quest was dark, with no sign of greyness in his
closely-trimmed black hair. His face was an epitome of forcefulness, his
lips hard, his eyes brilliant. He was dressed with the utmost care. His
manner was self-possessed almost to a fault. The Professor, on the other
hand, though his shoulders were broad, lost much of his height and
presence through a very pronounced stoop.
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