On his return to the offices of the Victory Finance Company on Monday afternoon, Major-Gen. Sir Hunter Lorne found awaiting him a note brought by a young man in a neat dark suit. Sir Hunter tore it open and read it, a frown, first of surprise and then of annoyance, deepening on his face as he did so.
“What the devil? Of all the infernal impertinence!” he exclaimed, then struck the hand-bell sharply. A junior clerk appeared at the door.
“That chap who brought this note still here?” he asked aggressively.
“Yes, Sir Hunter.”
“Send him in here, then. I’ll . . .” Sir Hunter did not disclose his intentions, but stood gnawing one end of his handsome grey moustache and glaring at the door.
“Who are you?” he asked, when the messenger appeared and the clerk had departed. “Are you a policeman?”
“Yes, sir. I’m secretary to the Assistant-Commissioner in charge of the Criminal Investigation Department.”
“This chap Marradine?”
“Yes, sir; Sir Leward Marradine.”
“What did he want to send you for? Is the unfortunate taxpayer to fork out £5 a week for men who are employed as messengers?”