“This is getting monotonous,” said Elk wearily, and walked to the nearest fire alarm. CHAPTER VII A CALL ON MR. MAITLAND OUTWARDLY, John Bennett accepted his son’s new life as a very natural development which might be expected in a young man. Inwardly he was uneasy, fearful. Ray was his only son; the pride of his life, though this he never showed. None knew better than John Bennett the snares that await the feet of independent youth in a great city. Worst of all, for his peace of mind, he knew Ray. Ella did not discuss the matter with her father, but she guessed his trouble and made up her mind as to what action she would take. The Sunday before, Ray had complained bitterly about the new cut to his salary. He had been desperate and had talked wildly of throwing up his work and finding a new place. And that possibility filled Ella with dismay. The Bennetts lived frugally on a very limited income. Apparently her father had few resources, though he always gave her the impression that from one of these he received a fairly comfortable income. The cottage was Bennett’s own property, and the cost of living was ridiculously cheap. A woman from the village came in every morning to do heavy work, and once a week to assist with the wash. That was the only luxury which her father’s meagre allowance provided for. So that she faced the prospect of an out-of-work Ray with alarm and decided upon her line of action. One morning Johnson, crossing the marble floor of Maitland’s main office, saw a delicious figure come through the swing doors, and almost ran to meet it. “My dear Miss Bennett, this is a wonderful surprise—Ray is out, but if you’ll wait——” “I’m glad he is out,” she said, relieved. “I want to see Mr. Maitland. Is it possible?” The cheery face of the philosopher clouded. “I’m afraid that will be difficult,” he said. “The old man never sees people—even the biggest men in the City. He hates women and strangers, and although I’ve been with him all these years, I’m not so sure that he has got used to me! What is it about?” She hesitated. “It’s about Ray’s salary,” and then, as he shook his head, she went on urgently: “It is so important, Mr. Johnson. Ray has extravagant tastes, and if they cut his salary it means—well, you know Ray so well!” He nodded. “I don’t know whether I can do anything,” he said dubiously. “I’ll go up and ask Mr. Maitland, but I’m afraid that it is a million to one chance against his seeing you.” When he came back, the jovial face of Mr. Johnson was one broad smile. “Come up before he changes his mind,” he said, and led her to the lift. “You’ll have to do all the talking, Miss Bennett—he’s an eccentric old cuss and as hard as flint.” He showed her into a small and comfortably furnished room, and waved his hand to a writing-table littered with papers. “My little den,” he explained. From the “den” a large rosewood door opened upon Mr. Maitland’s office.