He raised his hands. "Dear me, sir, I am sorry to hear that. Mr. Northcote of Park Lane, is it not, sir? I believe we had the pleasure of supplying you with several of your present staff." This also was information to me, but I received it with calmness. "Perhaps you can continue the good work, then?" I suggested. "Certainly, sir, of course. If you will take a chair a minute, I will just consult our books. I have no doubt that we have someone who would fill the vacancy." Maurice and I seated ourselves, while he bustled off to the other end of the room and began to turn over the pages of a big ledger. I picked up a copy of Punch, but I had scarcely glanced at the first picture when our grey-bearded friend came hurrying back with the light of discovery in his face. "Why, of course, sir, I have got the very man you want, sir. Stupid of me not to have remembered it; but, as a matter of fact, he was only entered on our books yesterday afternoon." "And who is this paragon?" inquired Maurice. "His name is Francis, sir. He is Sir Henry Tregattock's late butler. A most excellent servant, I believe." "Why has he left?" I asked. Mr. Seagrave shrugged his shoulders. "I should say he had saved up some money, and was tired of regular service. He has only entered himself on our books for temporary engagements. He is a Frenchman by birth, but speaks English perfectly, and his reference from Sir Henry is unimpeachable--unimpeachable." "Have you had it confirmed?" asked Maurice. "I rang up Sir Henry himself just after the man had been in, and he described him as the best servant he had ever had. Indeed, he seemed quite distressed at parting with him." "That seems satisfactory enough," said Maurice, turning to me. "What do you think?" I nodded. Curiously enough, I had met Sir Henry Tregattock about ten years before, when he had been the English Minister in Bolivia, and I remembered him as a level-headed man of the world, who was not in the least likely to give an excellent character to a servant unless the latter thoroughly deserved it. "Well," I said, "if he likes to come to me, I'll engage him for a fortnight, at thirty shillings a week." Mr. Seagrave beamed and rubbed his hands. "Very good, Mr. Northcote. Your terms are most generous, and I am sure he will be delighted to accept. I will telegraph for him at once, and he shall be round this afternoon." "The only thing is," said I, "that I shall probably be out." Mr. Seagrave pondered. "Perhaps you had better give me one of your cards, sir, with just a line in pencil to say that it is all right. I will take the man round to your house myself." This certainly seemed the best arrangement, so, getting out one of Northcote's cards, I scribbled a few words across it to the effect that the bearer was the genuine article, and handed it to Mr. Seagrave. With renewed protestations of his gratitude for my distinguished patronage, the latter bowed us out of his office.