“I thank you for your appreciation,” Macbean said, for it was the first kindly word that he had ever received from the millionaire during all the time he had been in his service.
“Oh, I don’t mean that you are any better than five hundred others in my employ,” the other returned. “I’ve got a hundred shop-managers who would serve me equally well at half the wages I pay you. I’ve all along considered that you don’t earn what you get.”
“In that case, then, I am very pleased to be able to relieve you of my services, and to take them where they will be at last appreciated.”
“Do you mean to be insolent?”
“I have no such intention,” replied Macbean, still quite cool, although his hands were trembling with suppressed anger. “The Italian Government will pay me well for my work, and will not hurl insults at me on every possible occasion and before every visitor. I have been your servant, Mr Morgan-Mason, your very humble servant, but after despatching this telegram I shall, I am glad to inform you, no longer be yours to command.”
“The Italian Government!” exclaimed the millionaire, utterly surprised. “In what department are you to be employed?”
“In the Ministry of War.”
“What!—in the office of that man we saw regarding the Abyssinian contracts?—Morini his name was, wasn’t it?”
“No. In the office of the Under-Secretary, Borselli.”
“I suppose you made it right with them when I took you with me to Rome—made good use of your ability to speak the lingo—eh?”