He sat down and tucked his serviette into his waistcoat, raised his glass, and suddenly set it down again.
"The boss!" he exclaimed in amazement.
Mr.Sabin turned his head in the direction which his companion had indicated.

Coming hastily across the room towards them, already out of breath as though with much hurrying, was a thick-set, powerful man, with the brutal face and coarse lips of a prizefighter; a beard cropped so short as to seem the growth of a few days only covered his chin, and his moustache, treated in the same way, was not thick enough to conceal a cruel mouth.

He was carefully enough dressed, and a great diamond flashed from his tie.

There was a red mark round his forehead where his hat had been, and the perspiration was streaming from his forehead.

He strode without hesitation to the table where Mr.Sabin and his guest were sitting, and without even a glance at the former turned upon his myrmidon.
"Where's that report ?" he cried roughly.