The butler bowed, went out, and returned with a tall, rather ungainly man in black, who had something of the appearance of a country carpenter who had taken to preaching. He had a habit of buttoning his black coat up tightly, with the consequence that it made a great many wrinkles round his body, and though he was fully six feet high, you felt that these wrinkles were caused by a kind of contraction, his body being of the nature of concertina bellows, and that you might pull him out to a most amazing extent. He favoured this conceit, too, by being very cartilaginous in the spine, and softly pressing his hands to his breast, and bowing and undulating gently in different directions to the party assembled in the room. "Hang him!" muttered Tom, scowling at the new comer. "He looks, as if he were in training for a spiral spring. Who the deuce is he?" "Tom," whispered his lordship, "that man makes me feel queer; get some brandy and soda in your room after he has gone." Tom favoured his father with a peculiar wink, and the old gentleman felt in his pockets once more, to be sure that he had not flung something out with his handkerchief. "Mr Irkle, I think?" said her ladyship, blandly. "Hurkle, my lady," said the new arrival, bowing. "Hurkle and Slant, Murley Court, Obun." "Oban?" said her ladyship; "I thought your place of business was in town." "Yes, my lady, Obun, W.C., near top o' Charn-shery Lane." "Go it, old chap," said Tom; "never mind the H's." "Tom, be silent." "All right!" "I think we need no preliminaries, Mr Hurkle," said her ladyship. "Perhaps you will favour me by reading a few notes from your diary." "Thank you, my lady, yes, certainly," said the new arrival, taking out a large flat pocket-book, and then getting into difficulties with his gloves and hat, setting the latter down upon a chair and putting the former in his pocket, then altering his mind, and taking the gloves out of his pocket, dropping one, and putting the other in his hat, which he took up and placed under the chair instead of upon it. Then he had to pick up the stray glove and put it in his pocket, evidently feeling uneasy directly after because he had not put it in his hat, but not liking to make a fresh alteration. He now coughed behind the pocket-book very respectfully, opened it, turned over a few leaves, drew out a pencil, and laid it across, so as not to lose the place, coughed again, and said-- "Your ladyship would like me to begin at the beginning?" "Certainly, Mr Hurkle," said her ladyship with dignity; and then with Maude sitting with her eyes half-closed, Tom walking up and down the room, and Lord Barmouth looking very much troubled and caressing his leg, the visitor coughed again, and began in a low subdued tone indicative of the secrecy of his mission. "`Thursday, twelft. Called into Lady Barmouth's'"--no mention was made of Lord Barmouth whatever--"`Portland Place. Private inquiry. No expense to be spared.'"