“I am sure,” Wingrave answered, “I congratulate you upon your versatility.  I am quite convinced!  I shall advertise at once for a secretary!”

“Why advertise?” Aynesworth asked.  “I am here!”

Wingrave shook his head.

“You would not suit me at all,” he answered.

“Why not?” Aynesworth asked.  “I forget whether I mentioned all my accomplishments.  I am an Oxford man with a degree, and I can write tolerable English.  I’ve a fair head for figures, and I don’t require too large a salary.”

“Exactly,” Wingrave answered drily.  “You are altogether too desirable?  I should not require an Admirable Crichton for my purpose.”

Aynesworth remained unruffled.

“All right,” he said.  “You know best, of course!  Suppose you tell me what sort of a man would satisfy you!”

“Why should I?” Wingrave asked coldly.

“It would amuse me,” Aynesworth answered, “and I’ve come a mile or so out of my way, and given up a whole morning to come and see you.  Go on!  It won’t take long!”

Wingrave shrugged his shoulders.

“I will not remind you,” he said, “that you came on your own initiative.  I owe you the idea, however, so I will tell you the sort of person I shall look out for.  In the first place, I do not require him to be a gentleman.”

“I can be a shocking bounder at times,” Aynesworth murmured.

“He must be more a sort of an upper servant,” Wingrave continued.  “I should require him to obey me implicitly, whatever I told him to do.  You have a conscience, I presume?”

“Very little,” Aynesworth answered.  “I have been a journalist.”

“You have the remnants of one, at all events,” Wingrave said, “quite sufficient, no doubt, to interfere with your possible usefulness to me.  I must have someone who is poor—­too poor to question my will, or to dispute my orders, whatever they might be.”

“I have never,” Aynesworth declared, “possessed a superfluous half-crown in my life.”

“You probably possess what is called a sense of honor,” Wingrave continued.  “You would certainly disapprove of some of my proceedings, and you would probably disobey my orders.”

“Sense of honor!” Aynesworth repeated.  “You have too flattering an opinion of me.  I don’t know what it is.  I always cheat at cards if I get the chance.”

Wingrave turned away.

“You are a fool,” he said, “and you won’t suit me.”

“When can I come?” Aynesworth asked.

“You can stay now,” Wingrave answered.  “Your salary will be four hundred a year.  You will live at my expense.  The day you disobey an order of mine, you go!  No notice, mind!”

“Agreed,” Aynesworth answered.  “What should I do first?  Send you a tailor, I should think.”

Wingrave nodded.

“I will give the afternoon to that sort of people,” he said.  “Here is a list of the tradesmen I used to deal with.  Kindly avoid them.”