“Right you are.”  Mr. Narkom struggled into his coat—­which he generally disposed of during private office hours.  Then he gave the order for the gentleman to be shown in and Petrie disappeared forthwith.

But during the time which intervened before Merriton’s arrival, Cleek did a little “altering” in face and general get-up, and when he did appear certainly no one would have recognized the aristocratic looking individual of a moment or two before, in an ordinary-appearing, stoop-shouldered, rather racy-looking tout.

“Ready,” said Cleek at last, and Mr. Narkom touched the bell upon his table.  Immediately the door opened and Petrie appeared followed closely by young Sir Nigel Merriton, whose clean-cut face was grim and whose mouth was set forbiddingly.

And in this fashion was Cleek introduced to the chief character of a case which was to prove one of the strangest of his whole career.  There was nothing about Sir Nigel, a well-dressed man about town, to indicate that he was to be the centre of an extraordinary drama, yet such was to be the case.

He was obviously perturbed, but those who sought Mr. Narkom’s counsel were frequently agitated; for no one can be even remotely connected with crime in one form or another without showing excitement to a greater or lesser degree.  And so his manner by no means set Sir Nigel apart from many another visitor to the Superintendent’s sanctum.

Mr. Narkom’s cordial nod brought from the young man a demand to see “Mr. Cleek,” of whom he had heard such wonderful tales.  Mr. Narkom, with one eye on that very gentleman’s back, announced gravely that Cleek was absent on a government case, and asked what he could do.  He waved a hand in Cleek’s direction and said that here was one of his men who would doubtless be able to help Sir Nigel in any difficulty he might happen to be in at the moment.

Now, as Sir Nigel’s story was a long one, and as the young man was too agitated to tell it altogether coherently, we will go back for a certain space of time, and tell the very remarkable story, the details of which were told to Mr. Narkom and his nameless associate in the Superintendent’s office, and which was to involve Cleek of Scotland Yard in a case which was later to receive the title of the Riddle of the Frozen Flame.

Much that he told them of his family history was already known to Cleek, whose uncanny knowledge of men and affairs was a by-word, but as that part of the story itself was not without romance, it must be told too, and to do so takes the reader back to a few months before his present visit to the precincts of the Law, when Sir Nigel Merriton returned to England after twelve years of army life in India.  A few days he had spent in London, renewing acquaintances, revisiting places he knew—­to find them wonderfully little changed—­and then had journeyed to Merriton Towers, the place which was to be his, due to the extraordinary disappearance of his uncle—­a disappearance which was yet to be explained.