The man bowed. Again the Oriental seemed to assert itself in the subtle ease with which he almost prostrated himself.
'Sir,' he explained, 'I am the friend of your servant Perkins.'
'Then perhaps you can tell me where on earth Perkins is?' Lavendale demanded.
'He is in the hospital, sir,' the man answered. 'He met with a slight accident while he and I were together. I am his messenger. I undertook to bring you news of him and to do what I could, in my poor way, to fill his place for this evening. He lent me his key. It was in that manner I was able to gain entrance here.'
'An accident?' Lavendale repeated. 'What sort of an accident?'
'I chose an idle word, perhaps,' the other confessed. 'It was indeed more a matter of sudden illness. Perkins and I lunched together at the Chinese Restaurant in Piccadilly Circus. As we left the place, he faltered; he fainted in the passage. I called a taxicab and took him to the hospital. It was not a great affair, they said, but it was better that he should rest there. So I came to you.'
'And who the dickens may you be?'
'My name is Niko. I came from Japan with General Kinish, military attaché to the Japanese Embassy. He has gone to the Italian Front and left me without a situation.'
'You're all right at ties, any way,' Lavendale admitted, glancing once more into the mirror. 'All the same, I think I can get along without a man until Perkins comes back.'
His hands sought his trousers pockets but Niko shook his head gravely.