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Updated: June 21, 2025
He entered the office and touched the young man in question upon the shoulder. "Mr. Weatherley wishes to speak to you outside, Chetwode," he announced. "Make haste, please." Arnold Chetwode put down his pen and rose to his feet. There was nothing flurried about his manner, nothing whatever to indicate on his part any knowledge of the fact that this was the voice of Fate beating upon his ear.
"That is all very well, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "but you must remember that Mrs. Weatherley had compensations for her lack of wealth. She is very beautiful, and she is, too, of a different social rank." Mr. Jarvis was frankly scornful. "Why, she was a foreigner," he declared. "I should like to know of what account any foreign family is against our good city firms, such as I have been speaking of.
"Only for one second, sir," Arnold replied, taking an invoice from the desk. "They are wanting this in the warehouse." Arnold stepped rapidly across to Mr. Jarvis's desk. "Telephone home for his wife to come and bring a doctor," he ordered. "Quick!" "He's out of his mind!" Jarvis gasped. "Stark mad," Arnold agreed. When he re-entered the office, Mr. Weatherley was sitting muttering to himself.
The firm shall stand us a little dinner this evening, which we will take together. We will go up to the west-end. You shall choose the proper place and order everything just the best you can think of. The firm shall pay. Mr. Weatherley would be quite agreeable, I am sure." Arnold forced himself to accept the suggestion with some appearance of pleasure. "Delighted!" he agreed.
Among these was a gentleman called Colonel Weatherley, who had come to the Transvaal as manager of a gold-mining company, but getting tired of that had taken a prominent part in the Annexation, and who, being subsequently disappointed about an appointment, became a bitter enemy of the Administrator.
At present, what you have to do is to eat and to drink that glass of Burgundy and to listen to me. I want to talk about myself." It was the subtlest way to distract her thoughts. She listened to him with keen interest while he talked of his day's work. It was not until she mentioned Fenella's name that his face clouded over. "Curiously enough, Mrs. Weatherley is displeased with me.
Weatherley continued, "who it was speaking, but I received some communications which I think I ought to take notice of. I want you accordingly to go to a certain restaurant in the west-end, the name and address of which I will give you, order your lunch there you can have whatever you like and wait until you see Mr. Rosario. I dare say you remember meeting Mr. Rosario last night, eh?"
Young and strong though he was, he was beginning to feel the strain of the last few days. "A most extraordinary thing has happened, Ruth," he declared. "Mr. Weatherley has disappeared." She looked at him blankly. "Disappeared? I don't understand." "He simply didn't turn up at business this morning," Arnold continued. "He left Bourne End about seven, and no one has set eyes on him since."
However that may be, I don't want my house made the rendezvous of all the interviewers and sightseers in the neighborhood. You and I will keep our counsel, Arnold Chetwode." "Might I ask," Arnold said, "if you knew this man if you had ever come into contact with him or seen him before?" "Certainly not," Mr. Weatherley replied. "What business could I possibly have with a person of that description?
"Shut the door, Chetwode," he ordered. Arnold did as he was bidden. "Come up to the desk here," he was further instructed. "Now, listen to me," Mr. Weatherley continued, after a moment's pause. "You are a young man of discretion, I am sure. My wife, I may say, Chetwode, thought quite highly of you last night." Arnold looked his employer in the face and felt a sudden pang of sympathy. Mr.
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