His clean-cut features had that hint
of underlying bronze which tells of years spent beneath a merciless
sun, and the touch of gray at his temples only added to the eager,
almost fierce vitality of the dark face. Paul Harley was notable
because of that intellectual strength which does not strike one
immediately, since it is purely temperamental, but which, nevertheless,
invests its possessor with an aura of distinction.
Writing his name at the bottom of the report, Paul Harley enclosed the
pages in a long envelope and dropped the envelope into a basket which
contained a number of other letters. His work for the day was ended,
and glancing at me with a triumphant smile, he stood up. His office was
a part of a residential suite, but although, like some old-time burgher
of the city, he lived on the premises, the shutting of a door which led
to his private rooms marked the close of the business day. Pressing a
bell which connected with the public office occupied by his secretary,
Paul Harley stood up as Innes entered.
"There's nothing further, is there, Innes?" he asked.
"Nothing, Mr. Harley, if you have passed the Home Office report?"
Paul Harley laughed shortly.
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