He removed from his mouth the black cigar he was smoking, inserted a digestive tabloid, and replaced the cigar.  Then he concentrated his attention on Ashe.  As he did so the hostile expression of his face became modified.  He looked surprised and—­grudgingly—­pleased.

“Well, what do you want?” he said.

“I came in answer to—­”

“In answer to my advertisement?  I had given up hope of seeing anything part human.  I thought you must be one of the clerks.  You’re certainly more like what I advertised for.  Of all the seedy bunches of dead beats I ever struck, the aggregation I’ve just been interviewing was the seediest!  When I spend good money in advertising for a young man of good appearance, I want a young man of good appearance—­not a tramp of fifty-five.”

Ashe was sorry for his predecessors, but he was bound to admit that they certainly had corresponded somewhat faithfully to the description just given.  The comparative cordiality of his own reception removed the slight nervousness that had been troubling him.  He began to feel confident—­almost jaunty.

“I’m through,” said the little man wearily.  “I’ve had enough of interviewing applicants.  You’re the last one I’ll see.  Are there any more hobos outside?”

“Not when I came in.”

“Then we’ll get down to business.  I’ll tell you what I want done, and if you are willing you can do it; if you are not willing you can leave it—­and go to the devil!  Sit down.”

Ashe sat down.  He resented the little man’s tone, but this was not the moment for saying so.  His companion scrutinized him narrowly.

“So far as appearance goes,” he said, “you are what I want.”  Ashe felt inclined to bow.  “Whoever takes on this job has got to act as my valet, and you look like a valet.”  Ashe felt less inclined to bow.

“You’re tall and thin and ordinary-looking.  Yes; so far as appearance goes, you fill the bill.”

It seemed to Ashe that it was time to correct an impression the little man appeared to have formed.

“I am afraid,” he said, “if all you want is a valet, you will have to look elsewhere.  I got the idea from your advertisement that something rather more exciting was in the air.  I can recommend you to several good employment agencies if you wish.”  He rose.  “Good-morning!” he said.

He would have liked to fling the massive pewter inkwell at this little creature who had so keenly disappointed him.

“Sit down!” snapped the other.

Ashe resumed his seat.  The hope of adventure dies hard on a Spring morning when one is twenty-six, and he had the feeling that there was more to come.

“Don’t be a damned fool!” said the little man.  “Of course I’m not asking you to be a valet and nothing else.”

“You would want me to do some cooking and plain sewing on the side, perhaps?”

Their eyes met in a hostile glare.  The flush on the little man’s face deepened.