“If you please, Mr. Laverick,” the man replied, “if you could spare me just a moment.”
“You had better come inside, then,” Laverick said, closing the door and preceding the way into the sitting-room. At any rate, there was nothing threatening about the appearance of this visitor—nor anything official.
“I have taken the liberty of coming, sir,” the man announced, “to ask you if you can tell me where I can find Mr. Arthur Morrison.”
Laverick’s face showed no sign of his relief. What he felt he succeeded in keeping to himself.
“You mean Morrison—my partner, I suppose?” he answered.
“If you please, sir,” the man admitted. “I wanted a word or two with him most particular. I found out his address from the caretaker of your office, but he don’t seem to have been home to his rooms at all last night, and they know nothing about him there.”
“Your face seems familiar to me,” Laverick remarked. “Where do you come from?”
“I am the waiter, sir, at the ‘Black Post,’—little bar and restaurant, you know,” he added, “just behind your offices, sir, at the end of Crooked Friars’ Alley. You’ve been in once or twice, Mr. Laverick, I think. Mr. Morrison’s a regular customer. He comes in for a drink most mornings.”
“I knew I’d seen your face somewhere,” he said. “What do you want with Mr. Morrison?”
The man was silent. He twirled his hat and looked embarrassed.
“It’s a matter I shouldn’t like to mention to any one except Mr. Morrison himself, sir,” he declared finally. “If you could put me in the way of seeing him, I’d be glad. I may say that it would be to his advantage, too.”
“As it happens, that’s a little difficult,” he explained. “Mr. Morrison and I disagreed on a matter of business last night. I undertook certain responsibilities which he should have shared, and he arranged to leave the firm and the country at once. We parted—well, not exactly the best of friends. I am afraid I cannot give you any information.”
“You haven’t seen him since then, sir?” the man asked.
Laverick lied promptly but he lied badly. His visitor was not in the least convinced.
“I am afraid I haven’t made myself quite plain, sir,” he said. “It’s to do him a bit o’ good that I’m here. I’m not wishing him any harm at all. On the contrary, it’s a great deal more to his advantage to see me than it will be mine to find him.”