“My business is in the city,” he said, coldly. “What do you call West?”
“Regent Street,” I answered.
He considered a few moments.
“I may be near there,” he said. “If so I will try to do what you require. Do not be disappointed if I should happen to forget about it, though. If it is important you had better send direct.”
“I would rather you called if it wouldn’t be bothering you,” I told him. “There is some money to pay, and it would save my getting postal orders.”
I left the room to write a note. When I came back my father had gone into his study. I followed him there, and, entering the room without knocking, found him bending over his desk.
He looked up at me and frowned.
“What do you want?” he said, sharply.
I explained, and he took the note from me, listening to the details of my commission, and making a note in his pocket-book.
“I will see to this for you if I can,” he said. “I will not promise, because I shall have other and more important matters to take up my attention. In the meantime, I should be glad to be left undisturbed for an hour. I have some letters to write.”