After the lapse of a few minutes the concierge returned, and with ceremony ushered him into the presence of the representative of the British Foreign Office.
The room was large, lofty, and airy, with windows overlooking the great Piazza, the centre of Livornese life. The furniture was antique and comfortable, and testified to the taste of its owner; the writing-table littered with documents clearly proved that the office of Consul at Leghorn was no sinecure, and the book-cases were stocked with well-selected and imposing works of reference. Over the fireplace hung a large steel engraving of His Majesty, and on the mantelshelf some signed portraits of celebrities.
“You’ve enjoyed your stay in Leghorn, I hope,” the Consul observed rather stiffly, after inviting his visitor to a seat on the opposite side of the table.
“Very much,” Armytage answered, sinking into the chair.
“You’ll excuse me for one moment,” the Consul said; and scribbling something he touched the bell, and the concierge summoned the Vice-Consul, a slim, tall young Englishman, to whom he gave some directions.
Contrary to Charles Armytage’s expectations, Mr Consul Hutchinson had, notwithstanding his professional frigidity and gravity of manner, the easy-going, good-natured bearing of the genial man of the world. He was a fair, somewhat portly man, comfortably built, shaven save for a small, well-trimmed moustache, the very picture of good health, whose face beamed with good humour, and in every line of whose countenance was good-fellowship portrayed.
There were few skippers up or down the Mediterranean—or seamen, for the matter of that—who did not know Consul Hutchinson at Leghorn, and who had not at some time or another received little kindnesses at his hands. From “Gib.” to “Constant.” Jack Hutchinson had the reputation of being the best, most good-natured, and happiest of all His Majesty’s Consuls, devoted to duty, not to be trifled with certainly, but ever ready to render immediate assistance to the Englishman in difficulties.
“Well,” he exclaimed, looking across at Armytage at last, when they were alone again, “I am glad you have called, because I have something to communicate in confidence to you.”
“In confidence?” Armytage repeated, puzzled.
Mr Consul Hutchinson, still preserving his professional air of dignity as befitted his office, leaned one elbow upon the table, and looking straight into his visitor’s face, said—