"Certainly, sir," Arnold replied. "It was I who put you through."
"I am not even sure," Mr. Weatherley continued, "who it was speaking, but I received some communications which I think I ought to take notice of. I want you accordingly to go to a certain restaurant in the west-end, the name and address of which I will give you, order your lunch there—you can have whatever you like—and wait until you see Mr. Rosario. I dare say you remember meeting Mr. Rosario last night, eh?"
"Certainly, sir. I remember him quite well."
"He will not be expecting you, so you will have to sit near the door and watch for him. Directly you see him, you must go to him and say that this message is from a friend. Tell him that whatever engagement he may have formed for luncheon, he is to go at once to the Prince's Grill Room and remain there until two o'clock. He is not to lunch at the Milan—that is the name of the place where you will be. Do you understand?"
"I understand perfectly," Arnold assented. "But supposing he only laughs at me?"
"You will have done your duty," Mr. Weatherley said. "There need be no mystery about the affair. You can say at once that you are there as the result of certain telephone messages addressed to me this morning, and that I should have come myself if it had been possible. If he chooses to disregard them, it is his affair entirely—not mine. At the same time, I think that he will go."
"It seems an odd sort of a thing to tell a perfect stranger, sir," Arnold remarked.
Mr. Weatherley produced a five-pound note.
"You can't go into those sort of places without money in your pocket," he continued. "You can account to me for the change later, but don't spare yourself. Have as good a lunch as you can eat. The restaurant is the Milan Grill Room on the Strand—the café, mind, not the main restaurant. You know where it is?"
"Quite well, sir, thank you."