"Oh, well enough," Hugh returned, to which somewhat vague description Paul's other guests grunted agreement.
"Greeky," Hugh went on, for his host's better understanding, and the subject was dropped, this graphic portraiture being deemed so eminently exhaustive that Charteris must be criticising a vivid mental picture of young Travers, the while he reclined with half-closed eyes, puffing lazily at his cigar.
"By the way," Paul began presently, turning to Hugh, "has Mrs. Le Mesurier spoken to you of the idea we formed?—just a suggestion, you know; you must, of course, feel at perfect liberty to—er——"
"Yes, thanks, awfully," Hugh replied suavely. "I'll turn up to-morrow. Nine o'clock suit—nine to four?"
For a moment Paul was staggered by such prompt acceptance of the post and subsequent arrangement of detail. "I think ten would suit me better," he said, a trifle apologetic. "I like to go in for various modes of exercise for a couple of hours before beginning work."
"All the same to me," Hugh returned airily. "Ten to five, then?"
"What do you say to having no fixed hour for leaving?" Paul suggested. "Just turn up at ten every day, and we can see what work there is to do, and do it. You will as often as not get through in an hour or two."
"That will just suit me," Hugh declared frankly. "And the salary?"
"Well," Paul said, with hesitancy, "a hundred a year would—er——"
"Phew," whistled Teddie, resorting to his bescented handkerchief; "and to think how I have to slave for a miserable forty!"