place arranged. Do you find anything onerous in these conditions?”
“Not at all,” muttered Soames, a trifle unsteadily; “it seems all right”—the cocktails were beginning to speak now, and his voice was a duet—“simply perfectly all right—all square.”
“Good!” said Mr. Gianapolis with his radiant smile; and the gaze of his left eye, crossing that of its neighbor, observed the entrance of a stranger into the bar. He drew his stool closer and lowered his voice:
“Mrs. Leroux,” he continued, “will be in your confidence. Mr. Leroux and every one else—every one else—must not suspect the arrangement”…
“Certainly—I quite understand”…
“Mrs. Leroux will engage you this afternoon—her husband is a mere cipher in the household—and you will commence your duties on Monday. Later in the week, Wednesday or Thursday, we will meet by appointment, and discuss further details.”
“Where can I see you?”
“Ring up this number: 18642 East, and ask for Mr. King. No! don’t write it down; remember it! I will come to the telephone, and arrange a meeting.”
Shortly after this, then, the interview concluded; and later in the afternoon of that day Mr. Soames presented himself at Palace Mansions.
He was received by Mrs. Leroux—a pretty
