“Naturally.”
“Thought I’d best see you personally before conducting the inquiries,” went on the young man.
“Unnecessary. Repeat the message you received.”
Mr. Wakeman fidgetted. He realized that he had been over-zealous, but proved his reliability by saying: “‘Find out if there’s another Joseph Smith in town whose residence number resembles mine.’”
“Hmm. Exactly. Have you done so?” demanded the employer.
“Not yet. As I was explaining”—
“Explanations are rarely useful. Implicit obedience is what I require. When you have followed my instructions bring me the results. I—I am in no especial haste. You needn’t come again to-day. To-morrow morning will answer. Peter, show the gentleman out.”
But for once Peter was not on hand when wanted. Commonly, during an attack of gout, he kept as close to his master as that exacting person’s “own shadow.” The old man now looked around in surprise, for not only had Peter, but Josephine, disappeared. There were also voices in the hall, and one of these was unfamiliar.
“Peter! Peter!” he called, and loudly.
“Yes, Massa Joe. Here am I,” answered the butler, reappearing.