“He did not, Mr. Garside, sir,” said Peterson humbly.
“I see there is a light in the library.”
“I left it for you, Mr. Garside, sir,” Peterson explained. “I thought you might not wish to retire at once, sir, when you came in.”
“That was very thoughtful, Peterson, I’m sure, but I shall presently do so. By the way, Peterson, I may be busy in my room to-morrow morning, in case Mr. Clayton gives me any work to be done at that time,” Margate added, steadily regarding his hearer. “There is something you can do for me.”
“I will be very glad to do it, Mr. Garside, sir,” said Peterson, bowing obsequiously.
“Very good. If Mr. Carter calls during the morning, I wish you would quietly come to my room and inform me. There are a few questions I wish to ask him about a personal matter—a purely personal matter, Peterson, I assure you.”
“Yes, Mr. Garside, sir.”
Peterson’s ruddy face appeared incapable of any material change.
“Will you quietly do so?”
“I will, Mr. Garside, sir.”