A clerk, however, informed him that Burlingame would be free within a few moments--and would he take a chair?
Thereupon, the clerk left the room.

McMahon took a chair--not the one towards which the clerk pointed him, but one beside the desk whereon were lying a number of open letters.
The interrogation always in the mind of a natural criminal, prompted McMahon to take a seat near the open letters.

As soon as the clerk left the room, a hairy hand reached out for the nearest letter, and a swift glance took in its contents.
A grimly cheerful, vicious smile lighted up the heavily bearded face.
Placing the letter on the desk again, as soon as it was read, McMahon almost threw himself over to the chair at some distance from the desk, which the clerk had first offered him.

There he sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands when Burlingame entered the room.
Ten minutes later, with a receipted bill in his pocket, Tom McMahon made for the barber's shop which Mazarine had entered.

He found it full, but seated in the red-plush chair, tipped back at a convenient angle, was Mazarine undergoing the triple operations of shaving his upper lip, beard-trimming and haircutting.