A soft-footed butler, impassive as Fate, materialized mysteriously in the doorway.
"You rang, sir?" he interrupted frigidly.
"I rang, Wotton." His master selected a sovereign from his purse and handed it to the servant. "For the cabby, Wotton."
"Yes sir." The butler swung automatically, on one heel.
"And Wotton!"
"Sir?"
"If any one should ask for me, I'm not at home."
"Very good, sir."
"And if you should see a pair of disreputable scoundrels skulking, in the neighborhood, one short and stout, the other tall and evidently a seafaring man, let me know."
"Thank you, sir." A moment later the front door was heard to close.