'I don't know where he is. He was in his office at something to seven, having an interview with Mrs. Tudor. Since then—'
Simon raised his eyebrows, and Albert expressed a similar sentiment by means of a whistle.
'Then, you've been telephoning on your own for me to come up?'
'Yes.'
'It's like your cheek!' Albert complained, calmly perching himself on the top of the grand piano.
'Perhaps it will be. I regret to tear you from your fireside, Alb, but I wish to consult you on a matter affecting the governor.'
'Go ahead, then,' said Albert. 'There's been enough talk about the governor to-day downstairs, I should hope.'
'You mean in reference to Mrs. Tudor's reappearance?'
'Yes.' Albert imitated Simon's carefully enunciated periods. 'I do mean in reference to Mrs. Tudor's reappearance. By the way, what the deuce are you burning all these lights for?'
'I was examining this photograph,' said Simon, handing to his brother a rather large unmounted silver-print photograph which had lain on his knees.