In compliance with this invitation, Jeremiah walked up the stairs of the house in Piccadilly at half-past two o'clock on the following day. In this—the being master of his time, left entirely to himself to do as he pleased—lay the great value of his situation with Miser Farebrother. He was his own master. With the miser eternally at the office looking over him, niggling and naggling at this and that, Jeremiah would have had but scant opportunities for attending to Number One.
At the door of the outer of Captain Ablewhite's rooms stood a man-servant, who asked Jeremiah's name.
"Mr. Pamflett," said Jeremiah. "Captain Ablewhite expects me."
"If you will wait here a moment," said the man, "I will tell Captain Ablewhite."
He returned very quickly, and Captain Ablewhite with him.
"Ah, Mr. Pamflett," said the Captain. "Just one word." He drew Jeremiah aside: "What you see inside is private."
"Not to be spoken of?" said Jeremiah rather mystified.
"Not to a soul," said Captain Ablewhite. "Is that settled?"
"Yes."
"Come along, then."