The little secretary blinked at him through his pince-nez.
“There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that really I forget ...”
He sighed heavily.
“Couldn’t I come in and have a yarn now?”
Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse him ...
“As a matter of fact,” explained Bruce with an eye on his man, “I wanted to see you particularly about a letter ...”
“Some other time ... to-morrow ...”
“Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P. made all the fuss about.”
Mr. Jeekes took his pince-nez from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long narrow look at the young man.