t's almost life and death to me."

"Almost life and death. Why, what are you going to do?" With all his
grandeur and national importance, Sir Raffle would be very curious as
to little people.

"Well, I can't exactly tell you, and I'm not quite sure myself."

"Then don't talk nonsense. It's impossible that I should spare my
private secretary just at that time of the year. I couldn't do it.
The service won't admit of it. You're not entitled to leave at that
season. Private secretaries always take their leave in the autumn."

"I should like to be absent in the autumn too, but--"

"It's out of the question, Mr Eames."

Then John Eames reflected that it behoved him in such an emergency to
fire off his big gun. He had a great dislike to firing this big gun,
but, as he said to himself, there are occasions which make a big gun
very necessary. "I got a letter from Lord De Guest this morning,
pressing me very much to go to him at Easter. It's about business,"
added Johnny. "If there was any difficulty, he said, he should write
to you."

"Write to me," said Sir Raffle, who did not like to be approached too
familiarly in his office, even by an earl.

"Of course I shouldn't tell him to do that. But, Sir Raffle, if I
remained out there, in the office," and Johnny pointed towards the
big room with his head, "I could choose April for my month. And as
the matter is so important to me, and to the earl--"

"What can it be?" said Sir Raffle.

"It's quite private," said John Eames.

Hereupon Sir Raffle became very petulant, feeling that a bargain was
being made with him. This young man would only consent to become his
private secretary upon certain terms! "Well, go in to FitzHoward now.
I can't lose all my day in this way."

"But I shall be able to get away at Easter?"

"I don't know. We shall see about it. But don't stand talking there
now." Then John Eames went into FitzHoward's room, and received that
gentleman's congratulations on his appointment. "I hope you like
being rung for, like a servant, every minute, for he's always ringing
that bell. And he'll roar at you till you're deaf. You must give up
all dinner engagements, for though there is not much to do, he'll
never let you go. I don't think anybody ever asks him out to dinner,
for he likes being here till seven. And you'll have to write all
manner of lies about big people. And, sometimes, when he has sent
Rafferty out about his private business, he'll ask you to bri