“Perfectly, sir.”

“Your business is to protect me, in case of anything happening—­of any disagreeable visitors, or anything of that sort,” Mr. Weatherley declared.  “This affair of Mr. Rosario has made me nervous.  There is a very dangerous gang of people about who try to get money from rich men, and, if they don’t succeed, use violence.  I have already come into contact with something of the sort myself.  Your salary—­what do you get at present?”

“Twenty-eight shillings a week, sir.”

“Double it,” Mr. Weatherley ordered promptly.  “Three pounds a week I will make it.  For three pounds a week I may rely upon your constant and zealous service?”

“You may rely absolutely on that,” Arnold replied, not quite sure whether he was on his head or his feet.

“Very well, then, go and tell some of the porters to bring in your desk.  Have it brought in this very moment.  Understand, if you please, that it is my wish not to be left alone under any circumstances—­that is quite clear, isn’t it?—­not under any circumstances!  I have heard some most disquieting stories about black-mailers and that sort of people.”

“I don’t think you need fear anything of the sort here,” Arnold assured him.

“I trust not,” Mr. Weatherley asserted, “but I prefer to be on the right side.  As regards firearms,” he continued, “I have never carried them, nor am I accustomed to handling them.  At the same time,—­”

“I wouldn’t bother about firearms, if I were you, sir,” Arnold interrupted.  “I can promise you that while I am in this office no one will touch you or harm you in any way.  I would rather rely upon my fists any day.”

Mr. Weatherley nodded.

“I am glad to hear you say so.  A strong young man like you need have no fear, of course.  You understand, Chetwode, not a word in the outer office.”

“Certainly not, sir,” Arnold promised.  “You can rely entirely upon my discretion.  You will perhaps tell Mr. Jarvis that I am to do my work in here.  Fortunately, I know a little shorthand, so if you like I can take the letters down.  It will make my presence seem more reasonable.”

Mr. Weatherley leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar.  He was recovering slowly.

“A very good idea, Chetwode,” he said.  “I will certainly inform Mr. Jarvis.  Poor Rosario!” he went on thoughtfully.  “And to think that he might have been warned.  If only I had told you to wait outside the restaurant!”

“Do you know who it was who telephoned to you, sir?” Arnold asked.

“No idea—­no idea at all,” Mr. Weatherley declared.  “Some one rang up and told me that Mr. Rosario was engaged to lunch in the Grill Room with my wife.  I don’t know who it was—­didn’t recognize the voice from Adam—­but the person went on to say that it would be a very great service indeed to Mr. Rosario if some one could stop him from lunching there to-day.  Can’t think why they telephoned to me.”