The valet nodded, and stood staring while the early visitor displayed his vigorous appetite.
“That the young lady I met in the hall?” said Mr Braham, coolly.
“Young lady, sir?” said the valet, inquiringly.
“Now, look here, my fine fellow,” said the money-lender: “take my advice. Keep friends with me, and, I think, it will be better for you in the long run. I might find it necessary to write and ask you a few questions, and I should expect satisfactory answers. I dare say you have a pencil—haven’t you?”
The valet nodded, while the visitor busied himself with his pocket-book.
“Look here, then! here’s a scrap of paper for you to make memorandums on, ready to tell me anything I want, specially keeping in mind any movements his lordship may make. You see, he’s forgetful, and don’t write to me, and a long journey like this, to find him gone, would be rather a nuisance, do you see? Ah! I see you understand; and, I dare say, when you’ve fairly worn out that piece of paper, I can find you another.”
Now, as the said piece of paper was a five-pound note, Mr Willis, his lordship’s valet, had no difficulty at all in promising to make the necessary memoranda. It was strange, too, how very much Mr Braham appeared to change in his sight. It would be a queer thing, thought the valet, if his lordship’s confidential man of business couldn’t have a bit of breakfast after his journey; so, requesting the visitor to ring when he was ready to go up to his lordship’s room, he prepared to leave.
“No, don’t go, my man,” said Braham, “I’ve just done. That was the young lady, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir; that’s her,” said Willis.
“Ah! Nice girl. Thanks—yes, you in ay open a bottle of claret. Fine place this, my man. If I were you, I should stick to his lordship. Money is tight in the city, sometimes—eh? Ha—ha—ha! We know—eh? But it will all come right; and if I were you, I should go in for the butlership. It’ll come to that by-and-by, I dare say.”