"Wouldn't it be better for you not to know what I should do?" Miss
Warburton glanced at him oddly. Her glance was agreeable, and yet
disconcerting. The attractiveness of the young woman seemed to be
accentuated. The institution of the confidential secretary was
magnified, in the eyes of Mr. Prohack, into one of the greatest
achievements of human society.

"Not at all," said he, in reply. "You are under-rating my capabilities,
for I can know and not know simultaneously."

"Well," said Miss Warburton. "You can't take an old house without having
the drains examined, obviously. Supposing the report on the drains was
unfavourable?"

"Do you propose to tamper with the drains?"

"Certainly not. I shouldn't dream of doing anything so disgraceful. But
I might tamper with the surveyor who made the report on the drains."

"Say no more," Mr. Prohack adjured her. "I'm going out."

And he went out, though he had by no means finished instructing Miss
Warburton in the art of being his secretary. She did not even know where
to find the essential tools of her calling, nor yet the names of
tradesmen to whom she had to telephone. He ought to have stayed in if
only to present his secretary to his wife. But he went out--to reflect
in private upon her initiative, her ready resourcefulness, her great
gift for conspiracy. He had to get away from her. The thought of her
induced in him qualms of trepidation. Could he after all manage her?