“Whatever you say to me, Macgregor, I will tell him.”
“I want to speak to him ma’sel’.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. He sees nobody—except once a week in the city, and then only for two hours.”
“’E would’na see me—eh?” asked the man, whose designs had brought the firm to the forefront in the trade.
“I fear it would be impossible. You would go to London for nothing. I’m his private secretary, you know; and anything that you tell me I shall be pleased to convey to him.”
“But, mon, I want to see ’im ma’sel’!”
“That can’t be managed,” declared Rolfe. “This business is left to Mr Smale and myself. Mr Statham controls the financial position, but details are left to me, in conjunction with Smale and Hamilton. Is it concerning the development of the business that you wish to see Mr Statham?”
“No, it ain’t. It concerns Mr Statham himself, privately.”
Rolfe pricked up his ears.
“Then it’s a matter which you do not wish to discuss with me?” he said. “Remember that Mr Statham has no business secrets from me. All his private correspondence passes through my hands.”