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Chapter 8
WhenIenteredthatquietthoroughfareitseemeddeserted.SirWalter’shousewasinthenarrowpart,andoutsideitthreeorfourmotor-carsweredrawnup.Islackenedspeedsomeyardsoffandwalkedbrisklyuptothedoor.Ifthebutlerrefusedmeadmission,orifheevendelayedtoopenthedoor,Iwasdone.
Hedidn’tdelay.Ihadscarcelyrungbeforethedooropened.
“ImustseeSirWalter,”Ipanted.“Mybusinessisdesperatelyimportant.”
Thatbutlerwasagreatman.Withoutmovingamuscleheheldthedooropen,andthenshutitbehindme.“SirWalterisengaged,sir,andIhaveorderstoadmitnoone.Perhapsyouwillwait.”
Thehousewasoftheold-fashionedkind,withawidehallandroomsonbothsidesofit.Atthefarendwasanalcovewithatelephoneandacoupleofchairs,andtherethebutlerofferedmeaseat.
“Seehere,”Iwhispered.“There’stroubleaboutandI’minit.ButSirWalterknows,andI’mworkingforhim.IfanyonecomesandasksifIamhere,tellhimalie.”
Henodded,andpresentlytherewasanoiseofvoicesinthestreet,andafuriousringingatthebell.Ineveradmiredamanmorethanthatbutler.Heopenedthedoor,andwithafacelikeagravenimagewaitedtobequestioned.Thenhegavethemit.Hetoldthemwhosehouseitwas,andwhathisorderswere,andsimplyfrozethemoffthedoorstep.Icouldseeitallfrommyalcove,anditwasbetterthananyplay.
Ihadn’twaitedlongtilltherecameanotherringatthebell.Thebutlermadenobonesaboutadmittingthisnewvisitor.
