He turned the lock and Merries rushed out of the room. Ruff looked across the room towards his secretary. “Ring up 1535 Central,” he ordered, sharply. Peter Ruff had descended from his apartments on the top floor of the building, in a new brown suit with which he was violently displeased, to meet a caller. “I am sorry to intrude--Mr. Ruff, I believe it is?” Sir Richard Dyson said, a little irritably--“but I have not a great deal of time to spare--” “Most natural!” Peter Ruff declared. “Pray take a chair, Sir Richard. You want to know, of course, about Lord Merries and poor Masters.” Sir Richard stared at his questioner, for a moment, without speech. Once more the fear which he had succeeded in banishing for a while, shone in his eyes--revealed itself in his white face. “Try the easy-chair, Sir Richard,” Ruff continued, pleasantly. “Leave your hat and cane on the table there, and make yourself comfortable. I should like to understand exactly what you have come to me for.” Sir Richard moved his head toward Miss Brown. “My business with you,” he said, “is more than ordinarily private. I have the honour of knowing Miss--” “Miss Brown,” Peter interrupted quickly. “In these offices, this young lady’s name is Miss Violet Brown.” Sir Richard shrugged his shoulders. “It is of no importance,” he said, “only, as you may understand, my business with you scarcely requires the presence of a third party, even one with the discretion which I am sure Miss--Brown possesses.” “In these matters,” Ruff answered, “my secretary does not exist apart from myself. Her presence is necessary. She takes down in shorthand notes of our conversation. I have a shocking memory, and there are always points which I forget. At the conclusion of our business, whatever it may be, these notes are destroyed. I could not work without them, however.” Sir Richard glanced a little doubtfully at the long, slim back of the girl who sat with her face turned away from him. “Of course,” he began, “if you make yourself personally responsible for her discretion--” “I am willing to do so,” Ruff interrupted, brusquely. “I guarantee it. Go on, please.” “I do not know, of course, where you got your information from,” Sir Richard began, “but it is perfectly true that I have come here to consult you upon a matter in which the two people whose names you have mentioned are concerned. The disappearance of Job Masters is, of course, common talk; but I cannot tell what has led you to associate with it the temporary absence of Lord Merries from this country.” “Let me ask you this question,” Ruff said. “How are you affected by the disappearance of Masters?” “Indirectly, it has caused me a great deal of inconvenience,” Sir Richard declared. “Facts, please,” murmured Peter. “It has been rumoured,” Sir Richard admitted, “that I owed Masters a large sum of money which I could not pay.” “Anything else?”