Was he to return to it passing rich of L97 10 shillings?
Weaver's Hotel was a respectable quiet resort for country visitors in London, and Reginald, as he stood in its homely entrance hall, felt secretly glad that the Corporation selected a place like this for its London headquarters rather than one of the more showy but less respectable hotels or restaurants with which the neighbourhood abounded.
Mr Medlock was in his room, the waiter said, and Mr Cruden was to step up.

He did step up, and was ushered into a little sitting-room, where a middle-aged gentleman stood before the fire-place reading the paper and softly humming to himself as he did so.
"Mr Cruden, sir," said the waiter.
"Ah! Mr Cruden, good morning.

Take a seat.

John, I shall be ready for lunch in about ten-minutes." Reginald, with the agitating conviction that his fate would be sealed one way or another in ten-minutes, obeyed, and darted a nervous glance at his new acquaintance.
He rather liked the looks of him.

He looked a comfortable, well-to-do gentleman, with rather a handsome face, and a manner by no means disheartening.