“If nothing has happened to him,” Mr. Jarvis protested, “where is he?”

“Is there any call he could have paid on the way?” Arnold suggested.

“I have never known him to do such a thing in his life,” Mr. Jarvis replied.  “Besides, there is no business call which could take two hours at this time of the morning.”

They rang up the few business friends whom Mr. Weatherley had in the vicinity, Guy’s Hospital, the bank, and the police station.  The reply was the same in all cases.  Nobody had seen or heard anything of Mr. Weatherley.  Arnold even took down his hat and walked aimlessly up the street to the spot where Mr. Weatherley had left the motor car.  The policeman on duty had heard nothing of any accident.  The shoe-black, at the top of the steps leading down to the wharves, remembered distinctly Mr. Weatherley’s alighting at the usual hour.  Arnold returned to the office and sat down facing the little safe which Mr. Weatherley had made over to him.  After all, it might be true, then, this thing which he had sometimes dimly suspected.  Beneath his very commonplace exterior, Mr. Weatherley had carried with him a secret....

At half-past twelve precisely, Arnold stood upon the threshold of the passage leading into Andre’s Cafe.  Already the people were beginning to crowd into the lower room, a curious, cosmopolitan mixture, mostly foreigners, and nearly all arriving in twos and threes from the neighboring business houses.  At twenty minutes to one, Mr. Weatherley’s beautiful car turned slowly into the narrow street and drove up to the entrance.  Arnold hurried forward to open the door and Fenella descended.  She came to him with radiant face, a wonderful vision in her spotless white gown and French hat with its drooping veil.  Arnold, notwithstanding his anxieties, found it impossible not to be carried away for the moment by a wave of admiration.  She laughed with pleasure as she looked into his eyes.

“There!” she exclaimed.  “I told you that for a moment I would make you forget everything.”

“There is a good deal to forget, too,” he answered.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“You are always so gloomy, my young friend,” she said.  “We will have luncheon together, you and I, and I will try and teach you how to be gay.  Tell me, then,” she went on, as they reached the landing and she waited for Arnold to open the door leading into the private room, “how is the little invalid girl this morning?”

“The little invalid girl is well,” Arnold replied.

“She was not too tired yesterday, I hope?” Fenella asked.

“Not in the least,” Arnold assured her.  “We both of us felt that we did not thank you half enough for our wonderful day.”

“Oh, la, la!” Fenella exclaimed.  “It was a whim of mine, that is all.  I liked having you both there.  Some day you must come again, and, if you are very good, I may let you bring the young lady, though I’m not so sure of that.  Do you know that my brother was asking me questions about her until I thought my head would swim last night?” she continued, curiously.