He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. ” “Then, whoever he may be, he is not Meysey Hill,” Courtlaw said. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions.
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