Then he heard footsteps in the hall. He stood well inside the room, now; a large room, furnished with quiet elegance. It was what people called a boudoir, he thought, as his quick eye took in the details; a dressing table with rose shaded electric lights and gleaming silver and glass; a little desk with rose and ivory fittings; a silver vase of white chrysanthemums on the table. “I’m afraid we can’t take you,” said Mrs. Jones, in an altogether new sort of voice, brisk, and a little loud. “I’m sorry.” Ross was very well aware that some one else had come to the door and was standing behind him. He was also aware of a sort of triumph in Mrs. Jones’s manner. She thought she was going to get rid of him. But she wasn’t. “If it’s a question of wages,” he said, “I’ll take a little less.” He saw how greatly this disconcerted her. “No,” she said. “No, I’m afraid not.” “What’s the matter? What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” demanded an impatient voice behind him. He turned, and saw a stout, middle-aged man of domineering aspect standing there and frowning heavily. “The young man’s come to apply for the chauffeur’s position, sir,” Mrs. Jones explained. “But I’m afraid—” “Well, what’s the matter with him?” cried the domineering man. “Can he drive a car? Has he got references, eh?” “Yes, sir,” Ross replied. “Let’s see your references!” “I left them at the agency,” said Ross, as if inspired. “Agency sent you, eh? Well, they know their business, don’t they? Can you take a car to pieces and put it together again? Have you brains enough to keep your gasoline tank filled, and to remember that when you’re going round a corner some other fellow may be doing the same thing?” “Yes, sir,” said Ross. The domineering man stared hard, and Ross met his regard steadily. “He’ll do,” said the man. “I like him. Looks you straight in the face. Level headed. Well set up. Good nerves. Doesn’t drink. We’ll give him a chance. Eddy!” He went out into the hall. “Eddy!” he shouted. “I want Eddy!” Mrs. Jones came close to Ross. “Go away!” she whispered. “You _must_ go away!” The domineering man had come back into the room. “Now, then, what’s your name?” he demanded brusquely. “Moss,” said Ross. “Moss, eh? Very well! Ah, here’s Eddy! Eddy, take this young man over to the garage. See that he’s properly looked after. He’s our new chauffeur.” V The door closed behind them, and Ross round himself in the hall, alone with this Eddy. They stared at each other for a moment; then, in spite of himself, a grudging smile dawned upon Ross’s lean and dour face. Eddy grinned from ear to ear. “Come on, shover!” he said. “I’ll show you your stall!”