And now he was actually junior partner in the firm—the firm of which it was said in the City, "If a man has Macnaughton, Macnaughton, Macnaughton, Macnaughton & Macnaughton behind him, he is all right." The City is always coining pithy little epigrams like this.
There was a knock at the door of the inquiry office and a prosperous-looking gentleman came in.
"Can I see Mr Macnaughton," he said politely to the office-boy.
"There isn't no Mr Macnaughton," replied the latter. "They all died years ago."
"Well, well, can I see one of the partners?"
"You can't see Mr Sanderson, because he's having his lunch," said the boy. "Mr Thorpe hasn't come back from lunch yet, Mr Peters has just gone out to lunch, Mr Williams is expected back from lunch every minute, Mr Gourlay went out to lunch an hour ago, Mr Beamish—"
"Tut, tut, isn't anybody in?"
"Mr Blunt is in," said the boy, and took up the telephone. "If you wait a moment I'll see if he's awake."
Half an hour later Mr Masters was shown into John Blunt's room.
"I'm sorry I was engaged," said John. "A most important client. Now, what can I do for you, Mr—er—Masters?"