Sabatini laid his hat and stick upon the table and commenced leisurely to draw off his gloves.

“This is Mr. Jarvis, who has been Mr. Weatherley’s right-hand man for a great many years,” Arnold said, introducing him; “Count Sabatini, Mr. Weatherley’s brother-in-law.”

Mr. Jarvis shook hands solemnly.

“I am glad to know you, sir,” he declared.  “I have not had the pleasure of seeing much of Mrs. Weatherley, but my connection with the firm is a very old one.”

“Is there any news,” asked Sabatini, “of our esteemed friend?”

Mr. Jarvis shook his head mournfully.

“There is no news,” he announced.  “I am afraid, sir, that it will be a long time before we do hear any news.  If your business is with Mr. Chetwode, Count Sabatini,” he added, “I will ask you to excuse me.  I have plenty to do in the warehouse.  If there is any information I can give you on behalf of your sister or yourself, I shall be very happy to come back if you will send for me.”

He bustled out, closing the door after him.  Sabatini looked around with a faint smile, as though his surroundings amused him.  He then carefully deposited his gloves with his hat, selected the most comfortable chair, and seated himself.

“So this is where the money is coined, eh?” he remarked.  “It is fortunate that I have discovered the place, for I need some.”

Arnold smiled.

“We haven’t had time to do much coining yet.”

“Supposing I want five hundred pounds, could I have it?” Sabatini asked.

Arnold shook his head.

“Certainly not,” he replied, “unless you had cheeses to sell us for it, or bacon.  Messrs. Weatherley & Company are provision merchants, not money-lenders.”

“You have the control of the finances, haven’t you?”

“To a certain extent, I have,” Arnold admitted.

“Now how much is there in that safe, I wonder?” Sabatini asked.

“About thirteen hundred pounds—­perhaps even more than that,” Arnold told him.

Sabatini withdrew the hand which had been fumbling in his pocket.  Arnold looked suddenly into the muzzle of a small, shining revolver.

“It was very foolish of you to give me that information,” Sabatini said.  “You have not forgotten our long conversation, I trust?  I expounded to you most carefully the creed of my life.  Five hundred pounds, if you please,” he added, politely.

“Not one ha’penny,” Arnold answered, seating himself upon the table and folding his arms.

“I’ll give you until I count three,” Sabatini announced, in a still, cold voice.

“You can give me as long as you like,” Arnold retorted, pleasantly.

Sabatini very deliberately counted three and pulled the trigger of his revolver.  There was a slight click.  He looked down the muzzle of the weapon and, with a little sigh, thrust it back into his pocket.

“This appears to be one of my failures,” he declared.  “Lend me five shillings, then,” he added.  “I really came out without any silver and I must keep up my reputation.  I positively cannot leave this office without loot of some sort.”