He had come to a resolution on the instant.
‘Give me some introductions to your friends.
It is the ambition of my life to conduct important private inquiries, and you must know plenty of people who stand in need of such a man as I.’
Lord Dolmer was poor—for a lord—and eked out a bare competence by being a guinea-pig in the City, a perfectly respectable and industrious guinea-pig. He agreed to Redgrave’s suggestion, asked him to dinner at his chambers in Half Moon Street, and became, in fact, friendly with the imperturbable and resourceful young man. Redgrave obtained several delicate commissions, and the result was such that in six months he abandoned his post in the Customs, and rented a small office in Adelphi Terrace. His acquaintance with Lord Dolmer continued, and when Lord Dolmer, after a lucky day on the Exchange, bought a 5-h.p. motor-car, these two went about the country together. Redgrave was soon able to manage a motor-car like an expert, and foreseeing that motor-cars would certainly acquire a high importance in the world, he cultivated relations with the firm of manufacturers from whom Lord Dolman had purchased his car. Then came a spell of ill-luck. The demand for a private inquiry agent of exceptional ability (a ‘specialist,’ as Richard described himself) seemed to die out. Richard had nothing to do, and was on the point of turning his wits in another direction, when he received a note from Lord Dolmer to the effect that Mr. Simon Lock and the directors of the British and Scottish had some business for him if he cared to undertake it.
Hence his advent in King William Street.
‘Let me introduce you,’ said Lord Dolmer, beckoning Redgrave from his chair near the door, ‘to our chairman, Mr. Simon Lock, whose name is doubtless familiar to you, and to my co-director, Sir Charles Custer.’
Redgrave bowed, and the two financiers nodded.
‘Take that chair, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, indicating a fourth chair at the table.
Simon Lock, a middle-aged man with gray hair, glinting gray eyes, a short moustache, and no beard, was one of the kings of finance. He had the monarchical manner, modified by an occasional gruff pleasantry. The British and Scottish was only one of various undertakings in which he was interested; he was, for example, at the head of a powerful group of Westralian mining companies, but here, as in all the others, he was the undisputed master. When he spoke Lord Dolmer and Sir Charles Custer held their tongues.
‘We have sent for you on Lord Dolmer’s recommendation—a very hearty recommendation, I may say,’ Simon Lock began. ‘He tells us that you have a particular partiality for motor-car cases’—Richard returned Simon Lock’s faint smile—‘and so you ought to be specially useful to us in our dilemma. I will explain the circumstance as simply as possible. Will you make notes?’