CHAPTER 4
‘THE FOUR-FLUSHER’‘This is the point to be considered, then,’ murmured Mr Campion. ‘Is this “Enter a murderer”, or “Innocence appears disguised as Mars”?’
There was no time for comment. Marcus rose to his feet as the door opened to admit Uncle William.
He came bustling in, a direct contradiction to any of Campion’s preconceived ideas. Mr William Faraday was a shortish, tubby individual in a dinner-jacket of the ‘old gentleman’ variety, a man of about fifty-five, with a pink face, bright greedy little blue eyes, yellowish-white hair, and a moustache worn very much in the military fashion, without quite achieving the effect so obviously intended. His hands were pudgy, and his feet, in their square-toed glacé shoes, somehow enhanced the smug personality of their owner.
He strode
