“Are you Miss Mary Blyth?”
“I am, Mr. Slaughter knows I am.”
“My name is Paine, Frank Paine. I am a solicitor. If you are the Mary Blyth I am in search of I have a communication to make to you of considerable importance.”
“Then make it outside, sir.” This was Mr. Slaughter.
The porter appeared at the door.
“What’s the meaning of this, Sanders? Didn’t I tell you to see this young woman off the premises?”
“I was just seeing her, sir, when she slipped off before I knew it.”
I flashed round at Sanders.
“You’ve assaulted me once, don’t you dare to assault me again; this gentleman’s a solicitor. If you’re a solicitor, Mr. Paine, I want you to help me. Because I was accidentally prevented from returning till a few minutes after time last night, Mr. Slaughter wishes to send me away at a moment’s notice, without a character.”
“Is that the case, Mr. Slaughter?”
“What business is it of yours? Upon my word! I tell you again to leave my office.”
“You appear to wish to carry things off with a high hand.”
“A high hand! Mr. Slaughter thinks that he has only to lift his little finger to have us all turned into the street.”
“If that is so, he is in error. Miss Blyth is my client. As her solicitor I would advise you to be sure that you are treating her with justice.”
“Her solicitor!” Mr. Slaughter laughed. “I wish you joy of the job, you won’t make a fortune out of her!” He waved his hands. “Any communication you have to make, you make through the post. For the last time I ask you to leave my office.”
“Come, Mr. Paine, we will go. He need not ask us
