information concerningher?"
"I merely adhere to my rule, sir. Any dismissal of my assistants is amatter between myself and the person dismissed. I am not called upon togive details or reasons to outsiders. I regret that I am very busy, andmust wish you good afternoon."
Max Barclay bit his lip. He did not like the brisk, business-ike air ofthe man.
"I shall call upon Mr Statham, whom I happen to know," he said. "And Ishall invoke his aid."
"You are perfectly at liberty to do just as you like, my dear sir. EvenMr Statham exercises no authority over the assistants in thisestablishment. It is my own department and I brook no interference."
Max did not reply, but left the office and strode out into OxfordStreet, pushing past the crowd of women around the huge shop-windowsadmiring the feminine finery there displayed so temptingly.
Marion--his Marion--had disappeared. She had been dismissed--indisgrace evidently; probably for some petty fault or for breaking one ofthe hundred rules by which every assistant was bound. He had alwaysheard Mr Cunnington spoken of as a most lenient, and even generous,employer, yet his treatment of Marion had been anything but just orhumane.
When he thought of it his blood boiled. Charlie was away, he knew. Hehad telephoned to his rooms that very morning, but his man had repliedthat his master had left hurriedly for the Continent--for Paris, hethought.
At the corner of Bond Street he halted, and glanced at his watch.Should he try and find Charlie by telegraph or should he take the bullby the horns and go and see old Sam Statham. His well-beloved haddisappeared. Would the old financier assist him to discover the truth?
He was well aware that for a comparative stranger to be deceived in thatbig house in Park Lane was exceptional. Old Levi had his orders, andfew among the many callers ever placed their foot over thecarefully-guarded threshold. Still, he resolved to make the attempt,and, with that object, jumped into a taxi-cab which happened at themoment to be passing.
Alighting at the house, he presented his card to old Levi, who openedthe door, and asked the favour of a few moments' conversation with MrStatham? The old servant scrutinised the card closely, and took stockof the visitor, who, noticing his hesitation, added: "Mr Statham willremember me, I believe."
Levi asked him into the hall, with a dissatisfied grunt, anddisappeared, to return a few moments later, and usher the visitor intothe presence of the millionaire.
Old Samuel, who had been dozing over a newspaper in the his easy-chairnear the fireplace, rose, and, through his spectacles, regarded hisvisitor with some suspicion. The blinds were drawn, shading the roomfrom the afternoon sun, therefore Max found the place was in comparativedarkness after the glare outside.
In a few moments, however, when his eyes grew accustomed to thesemi-darkness, he saw the old fellow wave his hand in the direction of achair, saying:
"I'm very glad you called, Mr Barclay--very glad. Indeed, curiouslyenough, I intended to write to you only yesterday upon a businessmatter, but I was too busy."
Barclay seated himself, full of surprise that the great financier shouldwish to consult him upon any business matter.
"Well, Mr Statham," he said, "I may as well tell you at once that I amhere to seek your kind assistance and help in a purely personal matter--a matter which closely concerns my own happiness."
Statham pricked up his ears. He knew what was coming. Marion Rolfe hadtold him of her visit there.
"Well?" he asked coldly, in a changed manner.
"You possibly are unaware that I am engaged to be married to MarionRolfe, the sister of your secretary, a young lady in whom you were kindenough to take an interest am obtain for her a situation atCunnington's."
The old man nodded, his countenance sphinx-like.
"The lady in question has been dismissed by Mr Cunnington at a moment'snotice, and he refuses to tell me the reason of his very remarkableaction. I want you to be good enough to obtain a response for me."
"And where is the young lady?" asked the wary Statham.
"Nobody knows. She would leave no address."
"Then you are unaware of her whereabouts?"
"She has disappeared."
"Extraordinary!" the old fellow remarked, reflecting deeply for amoment.
"Yes. I cannot imagine why, in the circumstances, she has not writtento me," Max declared, the expression upon his face betraying his deepdistress.
"It is certainly somewhat strange," the old man agreed. "Girls atCunnington's are not often discharged in that manner. Cunningtonhimself is always most lenient. Have you seen him?"
"Yes; and he absolutely refuses any information."
"In that case, Mr Barclay, I don't see very well how I can assist you.The management and organisation of the concern are left to him, asmanaging director. I really cannot interfere."
"But was it not through you that Marion, without previous experience orapprenticeship, was engaged there?"
"Yes; I have some recollection of sending a line of recommendation toCunnington," was the millionaire's response. "But, of course, myinterest ended there. My secretary asked me to write the note, and Idid so."
"Then you really cannot obtain for me the information I desire?"
"But why are you so inquisitive--eh?" snapped the old man. "Surely thelady will tell you the reason of her dismissal!"
"I don't know where she is."
"A fact which is--well--rather curious--shall we designate it?" the oldman remarked meaningly.
"You mean to imply that her instant dismissal has cast a slur upon hercharacter, and that she fears to meet me lest she be compelled to tellme the truth?" he said slowly as the suggestion dawned upon him. "Ah!I see. You refuse to help me, Mr Statham, because--because I loveher."
And his face became pale, hard-set, and determined.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
FRIEND OR FOE?
The two men were silent for some moments. Statham was watching hisvisitor's face. To him it was, at least, satisfactory to know thatMarion had disappeared, fearing to let her lover know the reason of hersudden dismissal lest he should misjudge her.
Truth to tell, he had anticipated that she would have gone straight toBarclay and told him the truth. Within himself he acknowledged that hehad played the poor girl a scoundrelly trick, but consoled himself withthe thought that when a man's life was at stake, as his was, any mode ofescape became justifiable.
At last the old man stirred in his chair, and, turning to Max, said:
"Please understand plainly it is not because I refuse to help you, butbecause it is not within my province to dictate to Cunnington repliesregarding his assistants."
"But you hold a controlling interest in the firm," declared the other.
"That may be so, but I have nothing to do with the details oforganisation," he replied. "No, Mr Barclay, let us end this matterwith an expression of my regret at being unable to assist you. Perhaps,however, I may be able to do so in another direction."
"In another direction!" he echoed. "How?"
"In a small matter of business."
Max Barclay was both surprised and interested. He knew quite well thatStatham could if he wished, give him previous knowledge that wouldenable him to make a considerable coup. Ignorance of Marion's visit tothe old man or the cause of her dismissal allowed him to regard themillionaire with feelings of friendliness, and to reflect that, afterall, he had no power to dictate to Cunnington.
"You know, Mr Barclay," he said, "I frequently obtain confidentialknowledge of what is transpiring in the world of finance. The other dayit came to my ears, through a source it is unnecessary to mention, thatthe Adriatic railway concession has been placed before you."
Max opened his eyes. He believed that not a soul except the man who hadjoined him in partnership was aware of this. The information must havecome from Constantinople, he thought.
"That is true," he admitted.
"A big thing!" remarked the old man in his croaking voice. "A very
bigthing indeed--means prosperity to the Balkan countries. But pardon meif I ask one or two questions. Do not think I have any intention ofgoing behind your back, or attempting to upset your plans. I merely askfor information, because, as perhaps you know, there is but one man inLondon who could float such a thing, and it is myself."
"I know, Mr Statham, that we shall be compelled to come to you when wehave the concession all in order."
"You will," he said with a smile. "But can you, without injury toyourself, tell me who is your associate in this business?"
"A Frenchman--Mr Jean Adam, of Constantinople." Statham's face nevermoved a muscle. Of this he was already quite well aware.
"An old friend of yours, I