Arnold did not at once reply. He was gazing at the inner door. Every moment he expected to hear—what? It seemed to him that tragedy was there, the greatest tragedy of all—the hunting of man! Sabatini yawned.
"Those others," he declared, "must settle their own little differences. After all, it is not our affair."
CHAPTER XII
JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED
It was fully half-past three before Arnold found himself back in Tooley Street. He hung up his coat and hat and was preparing to enter Mr. Weatherley's room when the chief clerk saw him. Mr. Jarvis had been standing outside, superintending the unloading of several dray loads of American bacon. He laid his hand upon Arnold's shoulder.
"One moment, Chetwode," he said. "I want to speak to you out here."
Arnold followed him to a retired part of the warehouse. Mr. Jarvis leaned against an old desk belonging to one of the porters.
"You are very late, Chetwode," he remarked.
"I am sorry, but I was detained," Arnold answered. "I will explain it to Mr. Weatherley directly I go in."