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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Exactly," Arnold agreed. "Go on, sir." "Well, I gripped the club in my right hand," Mr. Weatherley explained, seizing a ruler from the table, "like this, and I ran in upon him. I took him rather by surprise he hadn't expected anything of the sort. He had one shot at me and missed. I felt the bullet go scorching past my cheek like this." Mr.
Arnold withdrew to his typewriter and commenced his task. The day had commenced with a new surprise to him. The nervous, shattered Mr. Weatherley of yesterday was gone. After a happening in his house which might well have had a serious effect upon him, he seemed not only unmoved but absolutely restored to cheerfulness.
Weatherley coughed. He seemed unwilling to leave Arnold behind. "I dare say young Chetwode would like a hand at bridge himself, my dear," he protested. "Mr. Chetwode shall have one later on," she promised. "I think that very likely he will play at my table. Come." They left the room together. She looked back for a moment before, they disappeared and Arnold felt his heart give a little jump.
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 André's Café.
"You're not supposing, are you, that it was the same man who broke into my house last night?" "I know that it was, sir," Arnold replied. "You know that it was," Mr. Weatherley repeated, slowly. "Come, what do you mean by that?"
I should try, of course, to justify any confidence you might place in me." "I believe so, too, Chetwode," Mr. Weatherley declared. "I am going to trust you now with a somewhat peculiar commission. You may have noticed that I have been asked to speak privately upon the telephone several times this morning." "Certainly, sir," Arnold replied. "It was I who put you through." "I am not even sure," Mr.
"The business of Samuel Weatherley & Company," he interrupted, glancing at the clock, "will be entirely disorganized unless you promise." "I promise," she murmured faintly. Arnold arrived at Tooley Street only a few minutes after his usual time. He made his way at once into the private office and commenced his work. At ten o'clock Mr. Jarvis came in. The pile of letters upon Mr.
The latter addressed him with a curious and altogether unusual hesitation in his manner. "Mr. Jarvis," he began, "there is a matter a little matter upon which I er wish to consult you." "Those American invoices " "Nothing to do with business at all," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, ruthlessly. "A little private matter." "Indeed, sir?" Mr. Jarvis interjected. "The fact is," Mr.
Weatherley looked as though the idea were a new one to him. "To tell you the truth," he said, "I completely forgot. Help me on with my coat, Chetwode. There is nothing more to be done to-day. I will call and get some tea somewhere on my way home." He rose to his feet, a little heavily. "Tell them to get me a taxicab," he directed.
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.
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