“Can’t see any one to-day.”
“Mr Van Arlen!” said a voice, just as the door was closing.
“Impossible, sir, the Minister is in a hurry.”
The door was shut, and the voice—and all persons with whom it subsequently came in contact—were aware that there was “something up,” perhaps a reorganisation of the whole department.... So much only was certain, that no one knew what it was but the Minister and Van Arlen, which still further increased the latter’s importance.
But the drawing up of a proposal for the appointment of a supernumerary official was no joke. It was long since Van Arlen had such a ticklish document in hand, and the only reason it seemed to him that he could give was,—“Whereas it is our pleasure ... to supersede Van Arlen.” At last, however, he found the way to do it. By noon the document was ready, and one of the copying clerks, in whose discretion he placed unlimited confidence, was sent for to prepare the mysterious paper for its high destiny, in Van Arlen’s own room. At a quarter to two it was fairly written out, and Van Arlen presented himself before the Minister, who took the document, thanked him courteously, and glanced through it.
“You have forgotten the date when the new appointment is to begin,—the 1st of the following month,” said His Excellency, in a tone which clearly conveyed: “Really, Mr Van Arlen, your work is too much for you.”
Van Arlen returned to his room with the paper in his hand, and found Prigson at the door.
“Good-morning, Van Arlen.”
“Excuse me, Prigson; I haven’t a moment to spare.”
“What is it now? Country in danger? What’s that document?”