‘What you say is very interesting,’ he remarked. ‘It is conceivable, then, that Mr. Lock, not to be daunted by my defection, may insist on employing another private detective?’
‘Quite conceivable,’ Lord Dolmer admitted.
‘In that case,’ Richard began, and then stopped.
Lord Dolmer smiled, and, still smiling, said:
‘One word of advice, my friend: forget her.’
‘Why?’ Richard questioned absently, and bit his lip.
Well, he determined, with the ferocious resoluteness of a dogged soul, to follow Lord Dolmer’s advice. He said to himself that there ought to be no special difficulty in doing so, since only three days had passed since he first saw this creature whom he was enjoined to forget. He walked slowly along Piccadilly, down Regent Street, and through Trafalgar Square to his little office in Adelphi Terrace. Some trifling business awaited him there, and this occupied him till the hour of luncheon. He then went out and lunched, as his custom was, at Gatti’s.
Richard’s usual mode of life was extremely simple. His office, a single small room, was on the third-floor of No. 4, Adelphi Terrace. On the fourth-floor he had a bedroom, rather larger than the office, and quite commodious enough for the uses of a young bachelor who had no fancy tastes. When occasion needed he used the office as a sitting-room. All his meals he took out of doors. His breakfasts, which cost him fourpence, he consumed at a vegetarian restaurant hard by; his luncheons and dinners were eaten at Gatti’s. Frequently at the latter establishment he would be content with a dish of macaroni and half a pint of bitter, at an expenditure of eightpence--a satisfying repast. His total expenses were thus very small, and hence, although his income was irregular and fluctuating, he nevertheless continually saved money. It was seldom that less than one hundred pounds stood between him and the workhouse. In case of necessity he could have lived for a whole year, or even two years, on one hundred pounds. So he was always in an independent position. He could always afford not to bend the knee to any employer or client. He was, in fact, just what he looked, a shrewd and confident man, successful and well dressed, who knew how to take care of himself. He spent more on his wardrobe than on anything else, and this, not because he was a coxcomb, but from purely commercial motives. He accepted the world as he found the world, and he had learnt that clothes counted.