Arnold stood for a moment quite still. Then he took up the receiver and obeyed his orders. Groves' voice was as quiet and respectful as ever. He departed with the message and Arnold rang off. Then he turned to Mr. Weatherley.
"Have you any objection to my ringing up some one else and telling him, too?" he asked.
"You are like all of them," he remarked. "I suppose you think he's a sort of demigod. I never knew a young man yet that he couldn't twist round his little finger. You want to ring up Count Sabatini, I suppose?"
"I should like to," Arnold admitted.
"Very well, go on," Mr. Weatherley grumbled. "Let him know. Perhaps it will be as well."
Arnold took from his pocket the note which Sabatini had written to him, and which contained his telephone number. Then he rang up. The call was answered by his valet.
"In one moment, sir," he said. "The telephone rings into His Excellency's bedchamber. He shall speak to you himself."
A minute or two passed. Then the slow, musical voice of Sabatini intervened.
"Who is that speaking?"