The maid did not dare disturb him. Her orders were absolute. She could not refuse to admit me, seeing that I was already in the hall; but she stoutly refused to announce me. I argued with the damsel. "I may have business of the utmost importance with your master." She couldn't help it. She had her orders. "But, my good Ellen," said I--the minx had actually been in our service a couple of years before!--"suppose the place were on fire, what would you do?" She looked at me demurely. "I think I should call a policeman, sir." "You can call one now," said I, "for I'm going to announce myself. Don't tell me I'll have to walk over your dead body first, for it won't do." I know it is not looked upon as a friendly act to interrupt a man in his work and to disregard the orders given to his servants, but I was irritated by all this Grand Llama atmosphere of mysterious seclusion. Besides, I had been walking and felt just a little hot and dusty and thirsty, and I felt all the hotter, dustier and thirstier for my argument with Ellen. "I'll announce myself," I said, and marched to the door of Adrian's study. It was locked. I rapped at the door. "Who's there?" came Adrian's voice. "Me. Hilary." "What's the matter?" "I happen to be a guest under your roof," said I, with a touch of temper. "Wait a minute," said he. I waited about two. Then the door was unlocked and opened and I strode in upon Adrian who looked rather pale and dishevelled. "Why the deuce," said I, "did you keep me hanging about like that?" "I'm sorry," he replied. "But I make it a fixed rule to put away my work"--he waved a hand towards the safe--"whenever anybody, even Doria, wants to come into the room." I glanced around the cheerless place. There were no traces of work visible. Save that the quill pens and blotting pad were inky, his library table seemed as immaculate, as unstained by toil, as it did on the occasion of my first visit. "You needn't have made all that fuss," said I. "I only dropped in for a second or two. I wanted to ask for a drink and to show you a letter from Jaffery." "Oh, Jaffery!" He smiled. "How's the old barbarian getting on?" "Tremendously. He's the guest of a Viceroy and living in sumptuousness. Read for yourself." I took from my pocket letter and envelope. Now I am a man who keeps few letters and no envelopes. The second post bringing Jaffery's epistle had just arrived when I was leaving Northlands that morning, and it was but an accident of haste that the envelope had not been destroyed. I took the opportunity of tearing it up while Adrian was reading. With the pieces in my hand, I peered about the room. "What are you looking for?" he asked. "Your waste-paper basket." "Haven't got such a thing." I threw my litter into the grate. "Why?" "I'm not going to pander to the curiosity of housemaids," he replied rather irritably. "What do you do with your waste paper, then?" "Never have any," he said, with his eyes on Jaffery's letter.