.
Weatherley felt dimly confident that this junior clerk of his was
more accustomed to eight o'clock dinners than he was himself.

"A quarter to, to-night," he replied. "People coming for bridge
afterwards, you see. I live up Hampstead way--Pelham Lodge--quite
close to the tube station."

Mr. Weatherley omitted the directions he had been about to give
respecting toilet, and turned away. His youthful employee's manners,
to the last, were all that could be desired.

"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. "I will take care to be
punctual."

Mr. Weatherley grunted and walked out into the street. Here his
behavior was a little singular. He walked up toward London Bridge,
exchanging greetings with a good many acquaintances on the way.
Opposite the London & Westminster Bank he paused for a moment and
looked searchingly around. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he
stepped quickly into a very handsome motor car which was drawn up
close to the curb, and with a sigh of relief sat as far back among
the cushions as possible and held the tube to his mouth.

"Get along home," he ordered, tersely.

* * * * *

Arnold Chetwode, after his interview with his employer, returned
unruffled to his place. Mr. Jarvis bustled in after him. He was
annoyed, but he wished to conceal the fact. Besides, he still had an
arrow in his quiver. He came and stood over his subordinate.

"Congratulate you, I'm sure, Chetwode," he said smoothly. "First
time any one except myself has been to the house since Mr.
Weatherley's marriage."

Mr. Jarvis had taken the letters there one morning when his employer
had been unwell, and had waited in the hall. He did not, however,
mention that fact.

"Indeed?" Chetwode murmured, with his eye upon his work.

"You understand, of course," Mr. Jarvis continued, "that it will be
an evening-dress affair. Mrs. Weatherley has the name of being very
particular."

He glanced covertly at the young man, who was already immersed in
his work.

"Evening dress," Chetwode remarked, with a becoming show of
interest. "Well, I dare say I can manage something. If I wear a
black coat and a white silk bow, and stick a red handkerchief in
underneath my waistcoat, I dare say I shall be all right. Mr.
Weatherley can't expect much from me in that way, can he?"

The senior clerk was secretly delighted. It was not for him to
acquaint this young countryman with the necessities of London life.
He tur