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I gave a curt nod. ‘You are.’
‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Sir, I would advise against it.’
‘Why?’ I studied the youngster intently. There was no sign of deceit in his eyes. Trepidation, certainly, but not deceit. What was his game? Did he even have one?
‘My… my grandmother lives in the vicinity of Wilding Park, Sir. I visit her now and again and have caught glimpses of the house. It is not pretty.’
I waved that away. ‘I am not concerned with whether it is pretty or not. Is it sound?’
‘That it is, Sir, that it is,’ Elseworth threw in. From the look he directed at the young man, our young friend had made an enemy today. ‘Don't listen to this foolish youth!’
‘It is not sound,’ the fellow snapped.
Ah, so he has some fire under that big topper of his, has he?
‘And you know that how?’ I wanted to know.
‘Half the roof tiles are missing and I have seen unhealthy-looking stains on the walls,’ the young man started rattling off. ‘Once, in passing, I heard the steward complain about the wilderness in the grounds and an infestation of rats. The road up to the house, from what I could see from my coach as I drove by, also looked in bad disrepair.’
‘And you remember all that just from passing?’
I looked at him again, and this time from an entirely different angle. He was young, true - there was not a shadow of beard on his chin - but not too young. His behind was rather larger than usual, but still I didn’t get the feeling that he sat on it all that often. There was a fire in his brown eyes, a desire to prove himself that burned in all people who had long moved out of Lazytown.
‘Yes?’ It sounded more like a question than like an answer. But it was answer enough for me.
I gave a curt nod. ‘I see. Exactly what I have been looking for.’
The young man blinked. ‘But I just told you the house is dilapidated and…’
I cut him off with a jerk of my hand. ‘Not the house, young man. You.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’ Glancing over my shoulder, I waved towards Mr Elseworth. Or should I say the late Mr Elseworth? In the world of business, he was as good as dead. ‘Karim, get rid of that individual. Our business relationship is terminated. I have no further use for him.’
‘Yes, Sahib.’
‘Now to you.’ Ignoring the protesting shrieks of the pig that was being carted off to slaughter, I focused all of my considerable attention on the young man in front of me. ‘I know a good man when I see one, and I need a bright young man with a good memory and quick mind as my secretary. The last one I had has just left my employment for some unfathomable reason. I think you would be exactly the man for the job.’
The young man’s eyes bugged, and he coughed. Overwhelmed by my generosity, probably.
‘Err… the man for the job? Sorry, but I don't quite think that I'm the one you want, Sir.’
What the heck? Why was he being difficult?
‘Can you read and write?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Do you have employment?’
‘No, Sir, but…’
Bloody hell, what was this? He should be kissing my feet! I didn’t have time for this.
‘Well then, it's settled.’ My gaze drilled into him, making clear that by ‘s
ettled’, I meant ‘very, absolutely, finally settled’. ‘Be at my office, nine sharp Monday morning.’
