ountry, but he's a gentleman all right," the clerk said.

"Very good, I'll see him."

Slotman rose as Hugh came in. He recognised the man of position and
possessions, a man of the class that Slotman always cultivated.

"I wish to ask your permission to interview Miss Meredyth. I understand
that, in business hours, the permission of the employer should be asked
first."

"Delighted!" Slotman said. "You are a friend of Miss Meredyth's?" He
looked keenly at Hugh, and the first spark of jealousy was ignited in
his system.

"Hardly that, an acquaintance only," said Hugh.

Slotman felt relieved.

"Miss Meredyth is in the outer general office. You could hardly talk to
her there. If you will sit down, I will go out and send her to you,
Mr.--Alston." He glanced at the card.

"Thanks, perhaps you would be so kind as not to mention my name to her,"
said Hugh.

"Something up!" Slotman thought. He was an eminently suspicious man; he
suspected everyone, and more particularly all those who were in his pay.
He suspected his clerks of wasting their time--his time, the time he
paid for. He suspected them of filching the petty cash, stealing the
postage stamps, cheating him and getting the better of him in some way,
and in order to keep a watch on them he had riddled his suite of offices
with peepholes, listening holes, and spyholes in every unlikely corner.

A small waiting office divided his private apartment from the General
Office, and peepholes cunningly contrived permitted anyone to hear and
see all that passed in the General Office, and in his own office too.

He found a young clerk in the waiting office, and sent him to Miss
Meredyth.

"Ask Miss Meredyth to go to my office at once, not through this way, and
then you remain in the General Office till I send for you," said
Slotman.

This gave him the advantage he wanted. He locked both doors leading into
the waiting office, and took up his position at the spyhole that gave
him command of his own office.

He could see his visitor plainly. Hugh Alston was pacing the room
slowly, his hands behind his back, his face wearing a look of worry.
Slotman saw him pause and turn expectantly to the door at the far end of
the room.

Slotman could not see this door, but he heard it open, and he knew by
the look on the man's face that Joan had come in.

"Why are you here? How dare you follow me here?"

"I have dared to follow you here, to express my deep regret for what is
pas