At half-past twelve, however, he was sent for into Mr.Weatherley's private office.

Mr.Weatherley was leaning back in his chair and he had the air of a man who has come to a resolution.
"Shut the door, Chetwode," he ordered.
Arnold did as he was bidden.
"Come up to the desk here," he was further instructed.

"Now, listen to me," Mr.Weatherley continued, after a moment's pause.

"You are a young man of discretion, I am sure.

My wife, I may say, Chetwode, thought quite highly of you last night." Arnold looked his employer in the face and felt a sudden pang of sympathy.