“The gentleman has given his name as Peregrine Smith, sir. He assures me that he is known to you and that you will want to receive him.” The factotum, already in his habitual bent pose, flinches at the expression on his master’s face. “Forgive me, sir, perhaps I was wrong to bother you with a caller at such a late hour. I shall inform the gentleman that it is not convenient…”

“No. Send him in.” Stricklend is too thrown to toy with Fordingbridge. “Send him in at once and see that we are not disturbed.”

“Yes, Mr. Stricklend, sir.”

“Not disturbed under any circumstances! Do you understand?”

“Completely, master, yes, sir. Right away, sir,” he says, backing hastily out of the door.

Stricklend regains his poise and stands behind his desk. When his visitor enters the room he allows no sign of his inner turmoil to remain visible.

“Good evening, Stricklend. Your man looks quite terrified. What do you do to him to keep him in such a constant state of terror, I wonder?” Perry drops his hat and cane on the Chesterfield with a nonchalance that causes Stricklend to grind his teeth.

“What madness is this?” he demands. “Why have you come here, unexpected and without disguise, in working hours for all to see? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I have not. Do calm down, dear fellow. There really is no call for such alarm. What does it matter if someone sees me? Nobody here knows who I am, and besides, this place is full of people far more interested in themselves than anyone else.” He flops down on the sofa and gestures toward the firmly closed door. “Any chance your little man will bring us a glass of something? I feel in need.”

Stricklend ignores his request and sits down, resting his arms on the desk in front of him to help steady his nerves. He is unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a way. He is astute enough to know that his subordinate would not be taking such liberties if he was not in an unusual position of strength.

“Why don’t you come to the point and tell me what has brought you so rashly to my door?”

“No drink then? Oh, very well. Now, don’t look so glum, you will want to hear what I have to say.” He pauses for effect, clearly enjoying stringing Stricklend along. “You are a lucky man, Stricklend. You have sailed close to the wind these past few years. Others in your position, well, they might not have survived. Difficult times, indeed. But,” he grins, “all your troubles are at an end. For I bring you the means to acquire, at last, that which you have been chasing after for so long.”

“Really? Tell me more.”

“You could look a little more pleased.”

“Don’t play games with me, Smith. I have no time for such nonsense.”