"What's the matter with the fellow?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I've just sent for Ritchie."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you're doing him in style. A Harley Street specialist for a butler sounds all right. I should have called in someone a bit cheaper."
"I've no doubt you would," I said.
Something in my tone must have warned him that I was not feeling particularly amiable, for a distinct change came over his manner.
"I was only joking," he said a little lamely. "I'm sorry the poor fellow's off colour. A beastly nuisance for you, too."
I felt a strong desire to kick him, but my promise to Northcote restrained me.
"Yes," I said, "it's rather a bother. Have a cigar?"
He helped himself from the box which I held out.
"Any news?" he inquired.