A Useful Gentleman
Rufus Van Aldin had just finished the sparse breakfast of coffee and dry toast, which was all he ever allowed himself, when Knighton entered the room.
“ Mr. Goby is below, sir, waiting to see you.”
The millionaire glanced at the clock. It was just half-past nine.
“All right,” he said curtly. “He can come up.”
A minute or two later, Mr. Goby entered the room. He was a small, elderly man, shabbily dressed, with eyes that looked carefully all round the room, and never at the person he was addressing.
“Good morning, Goby,” said the millionaire. “Take a chair.”