“What is his name?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Carter gravely. “I haven’t seen his references, so I don’t know what name they are made out in. You can find out what to call him when he reports to-night. You’ll see that he gets the job?”
“Indeed I will,” answered Jane, experiencing a sense of relief at the prospect of having some one at hand in the household with whom she could discuss her activities.
And as she had anticipated she had little difficulty in interesting her father in the subject of a new chauffeur. Mr. Strong for several days had been trying to find one without success.
“You say this man’s last place was with the British High Commission.”
“Some one of the girls was telling me,” she prevaricated. “I asked her to tell him to come here to-night at eight. He ought to be here any minute.”
Presently the candidate for the place was announced.
“Mr. Thomas Dean to see about a chauffeur’s position,” the maid said as she brought him in, and while her father questioned him, Jane studied him carefully.
He could not be more than thirty, she decided, and the voice in which he answered her father’s questions was surely a cultivated one. It would not have surprised her in the least to have learned that he was a college man. Even in his neat chauffeur’s uniform he seemed every inch a gentleman. He had been driving a car for twelve years, he explained. No, he did not drink and had never been arrested for speeding.
“Are you a married man?”