"Is Mr. Smith or Mr. Hanbury in?" asked the Admiral.
"There ain't no such people," said the small boy.
"But you have the names on the door."
"Ah, that is the name of the firm, you see. It's only a name. It's Mr.
Reuben Metaxa that you wants."
"Well then, is he in?"
"No, he's not."
"When will he be back?"
"Can't tell, I'm sure. He's gone to lunch. Sometimes he takes one hour,
and sometimes two. It'll be two to-day, I 'spect, for he said he was
hungry afore he went."
"Then I suppose that we had better call again," said the Admiral.
"Not a bit," cried Charles. "I know how to manage these little imps. See
here, you young varmint, here's a shilling for you. Run off and fetch
your master. If you don't bring him here in five minutes I'll clump you
on the side of the head when you get back. Shoo! Scat!" He charged at
the youth, who bolted from the room and clattered madly down-stairs.
"He'll fetch him," said Charles. "Let us make ourselves at home.
This sofa does not feel over and above safe. It was not meant for
fifteen-stone men. But this doesn't look quite the sort of place where
one would expect to pick up money."
"Just what I was thinking," said the Admiral, looking ruefully about
him.
"Ah, well! I have heard that the best furnished offices generally belong
to the poorest firms. Let us hope it's the opposite here. They can't
spend much on the management anyhow. That pumpkin-headed boy was the
staff, I suppose. Ha, by Jove, that's his voice, and he's got our man, I
think!"
As he spoke the youth appeared in the doorway with a small, brown,
dried-up little chip of a man at his heels. He was clean-shaven and
blue-chinned, with bristling black hair, and keen brown eyes which shone
out very brightly from between pouched under-lids and drooping upper
ones. He advanced, glancing keenly from one to the other of his
visitors, and slowly rubbing together his thin, blue-veined hands. The
small boy closed the door behind him, and discreetly vanished.
"I am Mr. Reuben Metaxa," said the moneylender. "Was it about an advance
you wished to see me?"
"Yes."
"For you, I presume?" turning to Charles Westmacott.
"No, for this gentleman."
The moneylender looked surprised. "How much did you desire?"
"I thought of five thousand pounds," said the Admiral.
"And on what security?"
"I am a retired admiral of the British navy. You will find my name in
the Navy List. There is my card. I have here my pension papers. I get
L850 a year. I thought that perhaps if you were to hold these papers
it would be security enough that I should pay you. You could draw my
pension, and repay yourselves at the rate, say, of L500 a year, taking
your five per cent interest as well."