“They have all been sent up, Mr. Van Aldin. Oh! wait a minute.”

He dived into a pigeon hole, and produced a letter.

“Just come this minute,” he explained.

Rufus Van Aldin took the letter from him, and as he saw the handwriting, a woman’s flowing hand, his face was suddenly transformed. The harsh contours of it softened, and the hard line of his mouth relaxed. He looked a different man. He walked across to the lift with the letter in his hand and the smile still on his lips.

In the drawing-room of his suite, a young man was sitting at a desk nimbly sorting correspondence with the ease born of long practice. He sprang up as Van Aldin entered.

“Hallo, Knighton!”

“Glad to see you back, sir. Had a good time?”