“He will not be expecting you, so you will have to sit near the door and watch for him.  Directly you see him, you must go to him and say that this message is from a friend.  Tell him that whatever engagement he may have formed for luncheon, he is to go at once to the Prince’s Grill Room and remain there until two o’clock.  He is not to lunch at the Milan—­that is the name of the place where you will be.  Do you understand?”

“I understand perfectly,” Arnold assented.  “But supposing he only laughs at me?”

“You will have done your duty,” Mr. Weatherley said.  “There need be no mystery about the affair.  You can say at once that you are there as the result of certain telephone messages addressed to me this morning, and that I should have come myself if it had been possible.  If he chooses to disregard them, it is his affair entirely—­not mine.  At the same time, I think that he will go.”

“It seems an odd sort of a thing to tell a perfect stranger, sir,” Arnold remarked.

Mr. Weatherley produced a five-pound note.

“You can’t go into those sort of places without money in your pocket,” he continued.  “You can account to me for the change later, but don’t spare yourself.  Have as good a lunch as you can eat.  The restaurant is the Milan Grill Room on the Strand—­the cafe, mind, not the main restaurant.  You know where it is?”

“Quite well, sir, thank you.”

Mr. Weatherley looked at his employee curiously.

“Have you ever been there, then?” he inquired.

“Once or twice, sir,” Arnold admitted.

“Not on the twenty-eight shillings a week you get from me!”

“Quite true, sir,” Arnold assented.  “My circumstances were slightly different at the time.”

Mr. Weatherley hesitated.  This young man’s manner did not invite confidences.  On the other hand, he was genuinely curious about him.

“What made you come into the city, Chetwode?” he inquired.  “You don’t seem altogether cut out for it—­not that you don’t do your work and all that sort of thing,” he went on, hastily.  “I haven’t a word of complaint to make, mind.  All the same, you certainly seem as though you might have done a little better for yourself.”

“It is the fault of circumstances, sir,” Arnold replied.  “I am hoping that before long you will find that I do my work well enough to give me a better position.”

“You are ambitious, then?”

The face of the young man was suddenly grim.

“I mean to get on,” he declared.  “There were several years of my life when I used to imagine things.  I have quite finished with that.  I realize that there is only one way by means of which a man can count.”

Mr. Weatherley nodded ponderously.

“Well,” he said, “let me see that your work is well done, and you may find promotion is almost as quick in the city as anywhere else.  You had better be off now.”