A few yards behind, Meekins had alighted from his bicycle and was standing waiting.
"So you are Richard Hamel," Mr.Fentolin said at last very softly.
"Welcome back to England, Richard Hamel! I knew your father slightly, although we were never very friendly." He stretched out his hand from underneath the coverlet of his little vehicle--a hand with long, white fingers, slim and white and shapely as a woman's.

A single ring with a dull green stone was on his fourth finger.

Hamel shook hands with him as he would have shaken hands with a woman.

Afterwards he rubbed his fingers slowly together.

There was something about the touch which worried him.
"You have been making use of this little shanty, haven't you ?" he asked bluntly.
Mr.Fentolin nodded.