"I mean to get on," he declared. "There were several years of my life when I used to imagine things. I have quite finished with that. I realize that there is only one way by means of which a man can count."
Mr. Weatherley nodded ponderously.
"Well," he said, "let me see that your work is well done, and you may find promotion is almost as quick in the city as anywhere else. You had better be off now."
"I trust," Arnold ventured, as he turned toward the door, "that Mrs. Weatherley is quite well this morning?"
"So far as I know, she is," Mr. Weatherley replied. "My wife isn't usually visible before luncheon time. Continental habits, you know. I shall expect you back by three o'clock. You must come and report to me then."
Arnold brushed his hat and coat with extra care as he took them down from the peg.
"Going to lunch early, aren't you?" Mr. Jarvis remarked, looking at the clock. "Not sure that we can spare you yet. Smithers isn't back."
"I am going out for the governor," Arnold replied.
"What, to the bank?" Mr. Jarvis asked.
Arnold affected not to hear. He walked out into the street, lit a cigarette, and had his boots carefully polished at London Bridge Station. Then, as he had plenty of time, he took the train to Charing Cross and walked blithely down the Strand. Freed from the routine of his office work, he found his mind once more full of the events of last night. There was so much that he could not understand, yet there was so much that seemed to be leading him on towards the land of adventures. He found himself watching the faces in the Strand with a new interest, and he laughed to himself as he realized what it was. He was looking all the time for the man whose face he had seen pressed to the window-pane!