"You can't see Mr. Sanderson, because he's having his lunch," said the
boy. "Mr. Thorpe hasn't come back from lunch yet, Mr. Peters has just
gone out to lunch, Mr. Williams is expected back from lunch every
minute, Mr. Gourlay went out to lunch an hour ago, Mr. Beamish----"
"Tut, tut, isn't anybody in?"
"Mr. Blunt is in," said the boy, and took up the telephone. "If you wait
a moment I'll see if he's awake."
Half an hour later Mr. Masters was shown into John Blunt's room.
"I'm sorry I was engaged," said John. "A most important client. Now what
can I do for you, Mr.--er--Masters?"
"I wish to make my will."
"By all means," said John cordially.
"I have only one child, to whom I intend to leave all my money."
"Ha!" said John, with a frown. "This will be a lengthy and difficult
business."
"But you can do it?" asked Mr. Masters anxiously. "They told me at the
hairdresser's that Macnaughton, Macnaughton, Macnaughton, Macnaughton &
Macnaughton was the cleverest firm in London."
"We can do it," said John simply, "but it will require all our care;
and I think it would be best if I were to come and stay with you for the
week-end. We could go into it properly then."
"Thank you," said Mr. Masters, clasping the other's hand. "I was just
going to suggest it. My motor-car is outside. Let us go at once."
"I will follow you in a moment," said John, and, pausing only to snatch
a handful of money from the safe for incidental expenses and to tell the
boy that he would be back on Monday, he picked up the well-filled
week-end bag which he always kept ready, and hurried after the other.
Inside the car Mr. Masters was confidential.
"My daughter," he said, "comes of age to-morrow."
"Oh, it's a daughter?" said John in surprise. "Is she pretty?"
"She is considered to be the prettiest girl in the county."
"Really?" said John. He thought a moment, and added, "Can we stop at a
post-office? I must send an important business telegram." He took out a
form and wrote "Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till
Wednesday. Blunt."
The car stopped and then sped on again.
"Amy has never been any trouble to me," said Mr. Masters, "but I am
getting old now, and I would give a thousand pounds to see her happily
married."
"To whom would you give it?" asked John, whipping out his pocket-book.
"Tut, tut, a mere figure of speech. But I would settle a hundred
thousand pounds on her on the wedding-day."
"Indeed?" said John thoughtfully. "Can we stop at another post-office?"
he added, bringing out his fountain-pen again.
He took out a second telegraph form and wrote:
"Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till Friday. Blunt."
The car dashed on again, and an hour later arrived at a commodious
mansion standing in its own well-timbered grounds of upwards of several
acres. At the front door a graceful figure was standing.
"My solicitor, dear, Mr. Blunt," said Mr. Masters.
"It is very good of you to come all this way on my father's business,"
she said shyly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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