“Oh yes. I remember the name. What about him?”
“Your people wanted to find him,—something to his advantage. Do you happen to know whether it’s any use his coming forward now?”
Mr. Scawthorne was not distinguished by directness of gaze. He had handsome features and a not unpleasant cast of countenance, but something, possibly the habit of professional prudence, made his regard coldly, fitfully, absently observant. It was markedly so as he turned his face towards Joseph whilst the latter was speaking. After a moment’s silence he remarked, without emphasis:
“A relative of yours, you said?”
“No, I said a friend—intimate friend. Polkenhorne knows him too.”
“Does he? I haven’t seen Polkenhorne for a long time.”
“You don’t care to talk about the business? Perhaps you’d better introduce me to Mr. Percival.”
“By the name of Camden?”
