He passed straight through his bedroom, therefore, and into the sitting-room that overlooked the sea.  A small, round-backed man, with a shag of black hair upon his face, was sitting by the window.  There were three other men in the room, all writing busily.  All, save the man by the window, glanced up at Mordaunt’s entrance and nodded to him.  They were all English, with the exception of the stranger, who was obviously French.

Mordaunt looked at him questioningly, but no one volunteered an explanation.  He had evidently been sitting there for some time.  His gaze was fixed upon the darkening sea.  It was plain that he had no desire to court attention.

Quietly Mordaunt crossed the room to him.  He was crouched like a monkey, his chin on his hand, and made no movement at his approach.

Mordaunt reached him, and bent a little. “Est-ce que vous attendez quelqu’un, monsieur?”

Dark eyes flashed up at him, and sharply Mordaunt straightened himself.

“I await Mr. Mordaunt,” a soft voice said.

There was an instant’s pause before, “That is my name,” Mordaunt said very quietly.

“Eh bien, monsieur!  May I speak with you—­in private?”

The stranger rose shufflingly.  He had the look of an old man.

“Come this way,” Mordaunt said.

He re-crossed the room, his visitor hobbling in his wake.  No one spoke, but all surveyed the latter curiously, and as the door of Mordaunt’s bedroom closed upon him there was an interchange of glances and a raising of brows.

But nothing passed behind the closed door that would have enlightened any of them.  For Mordaunt scarcely waited to be alone with the man before he said, “I must ask you to wait some time longer if you wish to speak to me.  I am not at liberty at present.”

“If I may wait here—­” the stranger suggested meekly.

“Yes.  You can do that.  Have you dined?”

“But no, monsieur.”

Mordaunt rang the bell.  His face was quite immovable.  He stood and waited in silence for an answer to his summons.

Holmes came at length.  He betrayed no surprise at sight of the stranger in the room, but stood stiffly at attention, as though prepared to remove him at his master’s bidding.

“Holmes,” Mordaunt said very distinctly, “this—­gentleman has private business with me, and he will wait in this room until I am able to attend to him.  Will you get him some dinner, and see that no one but yourself comes into the room while he is here?”

“Very good, sir,” said Holmes.

He looked his charge over with something of the air of a sentry taking stock of a prisoner, and turned about.

“See that he has all that he wants,” Mordaunt added.

“Very good, sir,” Holmes said again, and withdrew.

Mordaunt turned at once towards the other door.  “I may be a couple of hours,” he said, and passed through gravely into his sitting-room.