In the end, however, he wasn’t forced to confront the man and merely signed in with Dallington to see Gerald Poole in a small room where prisoners could receive visitors.They went in and found the prisoner sitting at a small table with three rickety stools around it. The room was otherwise empty, though a guard remained outside the door.“That can’t be John Dallington, can it?” Poole said with transparent shock on his face.“How do you do, old friend?” said Dallington.“Only middling,” said Poole, then laughed and turned to Lenox. “Gerald Poole. Won’t you sit down?”“Charles Lenox,” said the detective, seeing right away the way Dallington had been trying to describe Poole. He seemed as unconcerned at finding himself in prison as he would have been at finding himself in Buckingham Palace. An unflappable lad. Of course, criminals often were unflappable.“I’m pleased to meet you.”“I wish it were under happier circumstances,” said Dallington.“Whatever can bring you here?”“It’s funny, actually—I’m an amateur detective now.
